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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


Crging  to  fa 


•I  thought  you  asked  your  little  friends  here  to  form  a  society."    See  p.  20. 


>•  LESLIE'S 


TEYING  TO  BE  USEFUL. 


BY 


MRS.   MADELINE   LESLIE, 

AUTHOR    Of    "MJNME    AND    IIER    PETS,"    "LITTLE   AdNES,"    "TIM    THE 
SCISSORS-GRINDER,"  ETC. 


"  Goodness  is  beauty  in  its  beat  estate." 


BOSTON: 
LEE     AND     SHEPARD, 

SUCCESSORS  TO  PHILLIPS,  SAMPSON  ft  CO. 

1864. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1858,  by 

SBEPARD,  CLARK  &  BROWN, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  ef  Massachusetts 


ELECTROTYPED  AT  f  HE 
BOITOIT    STEREOTYPE    FOUXDRTk 


IBlT-tr 


TO    THE 

MASSACHUSETTS  SABBATH  SCHOOL  SOCIETY, 

THIS    VOLUME 
IS    AFFECTIONATELY    INSCRIBED 

BY  THE  AUTHOR, 

IN  THE  EARNEST  HOPE  THAT,  WITH  THE  OTHER 

BOOKS  OF  THIS  SERIES,  IT  MAY  AID  THEIR 

MISSION  OF  LOVE. 


622679 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE      SEWING      SOCIETY. 

PA9B 

The  Meeting.  — The  Choice  of  Officers.  —A  Game  at  Still 
Palm.  —  Louise  Merton's  Interest  in  Missions.  —  Her 
salutary  Reflections 16 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE      PATCH- WORK      QUILT. 

The  Berry  Party.  — Mrs.  Merton's  Advice.  —  Second  Meet- 
ing of  the  United  States  Sewing  Society.  —  Persever- 
ance of  Agnes  and  Louise.  —  Debate  about  the  Sale  of 
the  Quilt 31 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE      PLAID      CLOAK. 

The  Poor  Student's  Surtout.  —  Proposal  of  Louise.  —  In- 
terview between  Dr.  Merton  and  his  Wife.  —  His  Aid 

in  the  Purchase  of  a  Cloak 42 

(9) 


10  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

LITTLE      FOLKS     E  N  C  0  TJ  R  A  G  E  D  . 
Sale  and  Return  of  the  Quilt  three  Times.  — Invisible  Pin- 
cushions. —  The  Watch  Chain.  —  Presentation  of  the 
Cloak.  —  Devout  Gratitude,  and  Acknowledgment.       .    65 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE      SLEIGH      BIDE. 

The  Young  Collegian's  Return.  — A  Chat  by  the  Fire- 
side.—  Christmas.  —  Remembering  the  Poor.  .  .  70 

CHAPTER  YI. 
THE      POOR     WIDOW. 

Her  Cottage. *—  Her  Presents.  —  Clothing  her  Twins.  — 
Another  Charitable  Visit  to  her  House.  —  The  Name- 
sake. —  Dr.  Merton's  Proposition.  —  Her  overpowering 
Emotion 77 

CHAPTER  VII. 
FAST     FOR     COLLEGES. 

Interest  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Merton  in  the  Occasion.  —  The 
Public  Meeting.  —  The  welcome  Letter.  —  The  Promise 
fulfilled 92 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE      CHARITY      SCHOOL. 

Spring.— The  Walk.  — The  Benevolent  Design. —  The 
Young  Teachers.  —  The  first  Session.  —  The  Happi- 
ness of  useful  Children.  —  The  Misery  of  Guilt.  .  .  104 


CONTENTS.  11 


CHAPTER  IX. 

VISIT     TO      THE     BEACH. 

Louise's  Project.  —  Her  Letter.  —  Her  Conquest  of  Her- 
self. —  Her  Father's  Decision.  —  Preparation.  —  The 
Party.  —  The  Ride.  —  Her  Impression  from  the  Sea.  — 
The  Return.  .  .  .  ,  ',  .  .  .  .116 

CHAPTER  X. 

,     THE      HAPPY      CHANGE. 

Resolutions  of  Louise  and  Agnes. — Parental  Fidelity. — 
Mental  Conflict.  —  Sweet  Submission. — The  two  Sis- 
ters one  in  Christian  Love 126 

CHAPTER  XI. 

SABBATH   SCHOOL  CLASS. 

Louise's  Residence  with  her  Sister. —  Her  Friend  Fanny. — 
Their  Teaching  in  the  Colored  Sabbath  School.  —Re- 
spect of  Miss  Merton's  Scholars  for  her.  — Marriage  of 
one  of  them.  —  Their  Gift  to  her  on  her  Return  Home 
—  Her  Profession  of  Religion.  —  Her  Sister's  sudden 
Death.  .  .  137 

CHAPTER  XII. 

LITTLE      BENNY. 

Louise  in  Sorrow.  —  Her  Mother's  Conversation.  —  Her 
Parents'  Fears.  —  Her  Father's  Expedient.  —  Her  Visit 
to  Little  Benny.  —  The  happy  Result.  —  The  new  Suit 
of  Clothes ,149 


12  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

GOING     WEST. 

Sickness  of  Louise.  —  Visit  of  Mr.  Bond.  —  Her  Interest 
in  his  Conversation.  —  His  Invitation.  —  Her  Parents' 
Consent. — The  Journey.  —  Mr.  Bond's  Interview  with 
a  Profane  Youth.  .  ..'»•»'/•  *  <  .  158 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE      LOST      MONEY. 

Letter  of  Louise  to  her  Parents.  —  Description  of  her  new 
Friends.  —  James  Gannet.  —  His  Loss.  —  Expedient  of 
Mr.  Bond.  —  James's  Gratitude.  —  The  Sabbath  Schools. 

—  Zeal  of  Louise  in  the  good  "Work.     .        .        .        .  171 

CHA1PTER  XV. 

THE     NEW     MINISTER. 

Good  News.  —  Visit  of  James  Gannet.  —  Arrival  of  Mr. 
Olmstead.  —  Bella's  Mission.  —  James's  Purchase  of  a 
Farm.  —  New  Arrangement  of  the  Sabbath  Schools.  — 
Letters  from  New  England.  —  Sickness  and  Death  of 
Little  Benny.  . 184 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE     QUILTING     PARTY. 

Coasting.  —  Studies.  —  Letter  from  Louise  to  her  Parents. 

—  The  intended  Wedding.  —  Preparations  for  it. — The 
merry   Party.  —  The   bountiful    Repast.  —  Plays    and 
Games.       ...  .  198 


CONTENTS.  13 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
THE     FATAL     COAST. 

The  dreadful  Accident.  —  Anguish  of  the  Parents.  —  Sym- 
pathy of  Friends.  —  Remorse  of  poor  Edward.  —  The 
Funeral.  .  .  ^ .  '  .  .  *  .  .  .  .  .205 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
THE     NEW     SCHOOL. 

Dismissal  of  Df.  Morrison.— Wishes  of  his  Church.  —  Mr. 
Olmstead's  Declinature.  —  His  Call  at  the  Parsonage.  .  216 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
THE     YOTJNG     NUBSE. 

Sickness  of  Mr.  Bond  and  Edward.  —  Letter  of  Louise  to 
her  Parents.  —  Convalescence  of  the  sick  Patients.  — 
The  Wedding. — Conrersation  with  Mr.  Olmstead.  .  225 

CHAPTER  XX. 

BUDS      OP      AFFECTION. 

Emily's  Invitation.  —  Her  Parents'  Consent.  —  Her  de- 
lighted Anticipations.  —  Louise  a  useful  Friend.  — 
Various  Drawbacks.  —  The  confidential  Interview.  — 
Letter  to  Dr.  Merton. — The  conditional  Engagement.  239 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
THE     CONCLUSION. 

The  Journey  homeward.  —  The  curious  Incident.  —  Dr. 
Merton's  Consent  to  the  Marriage  of  his  Daughter.  — 
Preparations  for  the  Wedding.  —  Parting  from  Friends.  250 


TRYING  TO  BE  USEFUL 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE     SEWING     SOCIETY. 

The  Meeting.  —  The  Choice  of  Officers.  —  A  Game  at  Still 
Palm. — Louise  Merton's  Interest  in  Missions. — Her  salu- 
t    tary  Reflections. 

"  REMEMBEB,  then,  at  two  o'clock  precisely !  " 
"  Yes,   two   o'clock  ! "  loudly  repeated  Agnes, 
who  was  already  at  some  distance. 

The  hour  of  two  arrived ;  and  while  the  vil- 
lage clock  was  yet  striking,  six  little  girls  were 
assembled  in  Mrs.  Lovell's  best  chamber,  among 
whom  might  be  seen  Louise  Merton  and  Agnes 
Lovell;  indeed,  they  were  very  prominent  in 
what  was  going  forward,  and,  it  was  easy  to 
perceive,  were  much  respected,  and  looked  upon 
as  quite  superior  to  the  rest  of  the  party. 

(15) 


16  TRYING   TO   BE   USEFUL. 

A  table  was  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
which  was  a  very  large  one.  It  was  now 
covered  with  baskets  filled  with  pieces  of 
calico,  thread,  needles,  thimbles,  and  all  things 
they  considered  necessary  for  the  commencement 
of  a  sewing  society.  Louise  and  Agnes  with- 
drew to  one  side  of  the  room  to  settle  finally 
the  point  so  many  times  discussed,  viz.,  who 
should  be  the  president  and  Who  the  vice 
president  —  this  honor  being  aspired  -to  by  both 
of  them. 

"  Louise,  you  know  that  I  am  the  oldest," 
said  Agnes,  "  and  it  is  just  about  the  same  to 
be  the  vice  president  as  the  president." 

"  Yes,  you're  five   days   older  than   I  am,  and 

I  suppose  you  must  have  it;  but " 

("  That's     a    good     girl!"    joyfully    exclaimed 
Agnes  ;  "  now  let  us  begin." 

Standing  side  by  side  at  the  table  before 
which  the  others  were  sitting,  Agnes  began  by 
rapping  loudly  thereupon,  though  it  could 
hardly  be  to  command  attention,  as  all  her  little 


THE   SEWING   SOCIETY.  17 

auditors  were  sitting  with  hands  folded,  in 
breathless  silence,  for  fear  they  should  lose  one 
word  of  what  was  to  follow.  "  You  all  know," 
continued  she,  "  that  we  are  going  to  have  a 
sewing  society ;  and  we  have  met  this  afternoon  to 
choose  our  officers  and  to  form  a  constitution." 

"  I  move,"  said  Louise,  "  that  Miss  Agnes 
Lovell  be  the  president  of  this  society." 

"  I  second  the  motion,"  said  little  Lucy  Lov- 
ell, as  previously  instructed. 

"If  this  be  your  minds,  ladies,  you  will 
please  manifest  it,'7  said  Agnes,  in  a  clear,  loud 
tone  of  voice.  All  then  raised  their  hands.  "  It 
is  a  vote.  I  now  move  that  Miss  Louise  Mer- 
ton  be  the  vice  president ; "  which  was  also 
seconded  and  carried.  Phebe  Shepard  and  Ellen 
Fuller  were  then  successively  chosen  secretary 
and  treasurer,  when  there  were  four  officers  and 
two  members  —  Lucy  Lovell  and  Sarah  Merton, 

looking    as  if  they  thought   that   they  had  been 

• 
neglected,    though    too     young     to     care    much 

about  it. 

2 


18  TRYING   TO   BE    USEFUL. 

"  We  will  now  proceed,"  said  the  president, 
feeling  that  a  very  important  part  had  been  ac- 
complished. "What  shall  be  the  name  of  our 
society? "  looking  at  the  vice  president,  who 
was  the  only  one  expected  to  answer. 

"  I  think  the  United  States  Sewing  Society 
would  be  a  good  name,"  modestly  responded 
Louise. 

"  Yes,  that's  a  very  good  name ! "  Then  ad- 
dressing the  society  —  "  Those  who  wish  to  have 
this  society  called  the  United  States  Sewing  So- 
ciety will  please  manifest  ,it."  All  raised  their 
hands,  deeply  impressed  with  the  importance  of 
the  plan  in  which  they  were  engaged.  Work 
was  then  distributed  by  the  two  principal  offi' 
cers ;  the  others  having  been  chosen  more  as  a 
mark  of  respect  to  the  families  to  which  they 
belonged,  than  from  any  supposition  that  their 
services  would  ever  be  necessary. 

For  about  half  an  hour  all  was  comparatively 
quiet,  it  being  generally  understood  that  their 
object  would  be  to  support  a  little  heathen  girl 


THE    SEWING   SOCIETY.  19 

in  one  of  the  mission  families,  their  attention 
having  been  particularly  directed  to  the  subject 
by  a  lecture  addressed  to  children  from  Mr. 

B ,  a  returned    missionary.     Lucy  and  Sarah 

then  exhibited  symptoms  of  uneasiness,  which 
•was  secretly  felt  by  all.  The  president  an- 
nounced that  there  would  be  a  recess,  which 
announcemennt  was  received  with  a  burst  of 
applause. 

"  What  shall  we  play  ?     Wfiat  shall  we  play  2  " 

cried  they,  eagerly. 

i 
"  O,  let's  play  '  still  palm,' "  responded  Phebe ; 

to  which  all  consented,  and  they  immediately 
commenced  darkening  the  room.  A  large  pile 
of  rose  blankets  lay  in  an  easy  chair  in  the  cor- 
ner. Agnes  sent  Lucy  to  the  kitchen  for  some 
forks,  and  the  blankets,  pinned  to  the  windows, 
in  addition  to  the  shutters,  excluded  every  ray 
of  light.  A  lively  game  now  commenced;  but 
ah,  how  soon  to  terminate !  One  of  the  little 
members,  in  trying  to  escape-  from  being  caught, 
ran  against  the  table  which  stood  in  the  centre 


20  TRYING    TO    BE    USEFUL. 

of  the  room,  and  severely  injured  her  head. 
Agnes  sprang  to  open  the  door,  while  Louise 
kindly  helped  up  her  little  sister,  wiped  her 
tears,*  and  tried  in  vain  to  soothe  her.  Imagine 
what  must  have  been  their  confusion  when  Mrs. 
Lovell,  alarmed  by  the  noise,  appeared  in  the 
midst  of  the  scene,  astonishment  and  grief  de- 
picted upon  her  countenance.  Sarah  hid  her 
aching  head  behind  her  sister,  while  all  looked 
at  the  upturned  table,  the  baskets  emptied  of 
their  contents,  and  the  countenance  of  Mrs. 
Lovell,  and  felt  that  they  deserved  censure.  In 
a  mild,  but  firm  tone,  she  said,  turning  to  Ag- 
nes, "  I  thought  you  asked  your  little  friends 
here  to  form  a  society ! "  Then,  taking  Sarah 
by  the  hand,  she  continued,  "  Little  girls,  you 
had  better  pick  up  your  work  and  go  home, 
now." 

They  all  sighed,  as  they  put  back  pieces  of 
uncut  calico,  which,  in  their  zeal,  they  had  in- 
tended should  have  been  far  advanced  toward  a 
quilt  before  they  closed  their  meeting.  In  si- 


Till-:    SEWING    SOCIETY.  21 

lencc  they  restored  the  room  to  order,  put  on 
their  bonnets,  and  prepared  to  go  home. 

"  I  suppose  the  next  meeting  will  be  at  our 
house,"  said  Louise. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Agnes,  while  for  ^a  moment 
she  resumed  the  important  air  of  president. 
"  Girls,  do  you  hear  ?  The  next  meeting  will 
be  at  Dr.  Merton's  house,  next  Saturday  after- 
noon." 

Louise  then  went  down  stairs,  and  was  joined 
by  Sarah,  who  was  quite  recovered  from  her 
fall,  by  the  kind  attention  of  Mrs.  Lovell. 

Louise  and  Sarah  Merton  were  the  youngest 
of  a  large  family  of  children.  Dr.  Merton,  their 
father,  resided  in  a  pleasant  village  in  one  of 
the  New  England  states.  He  was  an  eminent 
Christian,  and  sought  above  all  things  for  wis- 
dom to  train  up  his  dear  children  in  the  way 
in  which  they  should  go,  feeling  assured  by  the 
divine  promise,  that  when  they  were  old  they 
would  not  depart  from  it.  In  all  these  wishes 
and  prayers,  he  was  joined  by  his  excellent  lady, 


22  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

who  desired  nothing  better  than  to  see  their 
children  walking  in  all  the  commandments  of  the 
Lord  blameless. 

So  far,  they  had-  been  eminently  successful. 
Several  were  already  settled  in  life,  occupying 
stations  of  great  respectability.  One  Son,  Wil- 
liam, was  now  in  college,  and  these  two  little 
girls  remained  at  home. 

Louise  had  always  heard  a  good  deal  of  con- 
versation about  missionaries,  and  had  had  the 
pleasure  of  becoming  acquainted  with  several 
when  they  were  visiting  at  her  father's  house, 
just  before  their  embarkation.  Of  all  things  in 
the  world,  she  most  desired  to  be  a  missionary  ; 
or,  as  she  was  too  yoiing  for  that  at  present, 
being  now  but  nine  years  old,  she  would  talk 
with  her  mother  of  the  practicability  of  sending 
for  some  little  heathen  girls,  that  she  might 
take  care  of  them  at  home. 

Mrs.  Merton  encouraged  her  daughter  to  talk 
with  her,  and  Louise  at  last  became  so  much 
interested  in  the  subject,  that  she  could  think  of 


THE   SEWING   SOCIETY.  23 

nothing  else.  Her  baby  house  was  entirely  neg- 
lected, and  the  moment  she  came  in  from  school, 
she  wanted  to  be  talking  over  her  plan  of  send- 
ing for  a  heathen  chijd,  and  training  it  up  to  be 
good. 

At  last  her  mother  gave  her  consent  to  com- 
mence a  suit  of  clothes  for  her  little  Emily,  as 
she  had  named  her.  Pocket  handkerchiefs  and 
shirts  were  cut  from  old  linen,  and  two  of  her 
dresses  were  fitted  for  a  child  of  three  years  of 
age. 

Mrs.  Merton  would  often  smile  to  see  her 
little  girl  so  intently  occupied ;  and  while  Louise 
would  sit  by  her  side,  with  her  basket  of  work 
upon  a  cricket  before  her,  Mrs.  Merton  would 
lift  her  heart  in  prayer  to  God,  that  her  desire 
to  do  good  might  grow  with  her  growth,  and 
strengthen  with  her  strength,  and  that  if  God 
should  fit  her  to  be  a  missionary,  her-  parents 
might  have  grace  given  them  to^part  Avith  their 
dear  child,  to  labor  even  in  the  remote  parts  of 
the  earth. 


24  TRYING   TO   BE   USEFUL. 

• 

All  this  had  happened  about  two  years  before 
the  events  related  at  the  commencement  of  the 
chapter,  yet  Louise  had  never  entirely  lost  her 
interest  in  missionaries,  and  having  a  short  time 
before  had  her  attention  particularly  directed  to 
the  subject  by  an  address  to  children,  she  had 
been  led  to  inquire  what  she  could  do.  Night 
after  night  she  had  made  it  the  burden  of  her 
prayer ;  plan  after  plan  had  been  thought  of  and 
rejected,  until  a  lady  called  one  evening  to  see 
her  mother  in  regard  to  the  benevolent  society 
which  had  long  been  in  operation  in  the  village. 

Louise  all  at  once  started  and  ran  to  her 
room,  and  there,  in  her  joy,  soliloquized,  "  O, 
we'll  have  a  sewing  society !  we'll  have  a  sewing 
society  ! "  She  could  hardly  wait  until  morning 
to  talk  with  Agnes,  her  confidential  friend  and 
adviser;  but  at  last  she  fell  asleep,  and  dreamed 
of  receiving  a  letter  from  a  little  girl  who  had 
been  hopefully  converted  in  one  of  the  mission 
families,  and  who  wrote  to  tell  her  young  friends 
in  America  that  she  now  worshipped  the  true  God. 


THE    SEWING   SOCIETY.  25 

The  next  morning  Louise  prepared  herself  for 
school,  and  set  off,  hoping  to  meet  Agnes  ;  but 
in  this  she  was  disappointed,  as  her  friend  did 
not  come  in  until  it  was  time  for  the  reading  of 
the  Scriptures.  When  the  prayer  was  concluded, 
Louise  tried  hard  to  apply  herself  to  her  studies, 
and  succeeded  in  a  measure,  though  every  now 
and  then  the  idea  of  a  society  would  dart  through 
her  mind.  Glad  was  she  when  the  teacher  rang 
the  bell  for  a  recess.  Putting  her  arm  in  Ag- 
nes', she  said,  "  Come  with  me  to  the  rock ;  I 
want  to  tell  you  something  very  particular." 

Agnes  was  all  attention.  When  they  were 
seated  upon  their  favorite  rock,  Louise,  who 
could  not  wait  to  explain,  said  abruptly,  "  Ag- 
nes, why  can't  we  little  girls  have  a  sewing 
society,  and  support  a  heathen  child,  as  Mr.  B. 
told  us  was  done  in  many  places  by  children 
no  older  than  we  are  ?  " 

Agnes  waited  a  moment,  as  if  fully  to  under- 
stand what  she  meant,  and  then  replied  that  she 
should  like  it  of  all  things. 


26  TRYING   TO   BE    USEFUL. 

I  will  not  delay  to  relate  all  the  conversation 
which  passed  between  them.  This  was  Tuesday 
morning.  At  noon  their  parents  were  consulted, 
and  consent  obtained,  though  with  many  misgiv- 
ings lest  the  whole  thing  should  fall  through 
for  want  of  an  older  sister  or  friend  to  be 
present  and  direct  their  proceedings. 

The  little  girls,  in  the  mean  time,  endeavored 
to  learn  how  to  put  votes,  to  choose  officers,  &c. ; 
and  when  Saturday  afternoon  arrived,  they  had 
every  thing  in  readiness  for  the  meeting.  Their 
intention  was  to  make  quilts,  hoping  to  find  a 
ready  market  -for  them  among  the  friends  of 
their  parents. 

The  particulars  of  their  first  meeting  I  have 
already  related ;  and  it  was  with  feelings  of  bit- 
ter disappointment  that  Louise,  on  going  to  her 
chamber  at  night,  reviewed  the  events  of  the 
afternoon. 

"  How  could  I  be  so  foolish  as  to  wish  to 
play,  when  I  have  so  longed  for  the  time  to 
come  that  I  might  sew?  0,  how  different  it 


THE    SEWING    SOCIETY.  27 

has  been  from  "what  I  anticipated.  I  could  not 
have  believed  I  should  have  -done  soj  but  I 
mean  to  do  better  next  time.  But  how  can  I 
be  sure  that  I  shall  do  any  better  than  I  have 
now  done  ?  Father  has  told  me  again  and 
again,  that  I  can  never  keep  my  resolutions 
while  I  depend  upon  myself  for  strength.  Yes, 
that  is  it !  I  did  not  ask  God  to  help  me  to-  • 
day,  for  I  never  dreamed  of  stopping  to  play." 
And  with  feelings  subdued  and  tender,  Louise 
kneeled  by  the  side  of  her  bed,  and  asked  God 
to  give  her  a  new  heart,  with  holy  affections 
instead  of  sinful  ones,  and  above  all,  to  enable 
her  to  keep  all  the  good  resolutions  which  she 
had  made. 

This  little  girl  was  inclined  to  look  at  her 
conduct  in  a  serious  point  of  view.  She  knew 
it  was  not  wrong  to  play.  Her  parents  had  al- 
ways encouraged  their  children  in  all  proper 
amusements,  and  especially  in  out-door  games, 
as  very  conducive  to  health.  Particularly  had 
they  striven  to  show  them,  both  by  precept  and 


28  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

example,  that  cheerfulness  was  not  opposed  to 
religion,  and  that,  should  they  become  Christians, 
they  would  not  thereby  debar  themselves  from 
rational  enjoyment.  But  she  felt  that,  having 
undertaken  to  work  for  a  particular  purpose,  she 
had  not  persevered  as  she  ought,  but  had  been 
easily  turned  aside  from  what  she  knew  to  be 
right. 

Louise  had  never  given  her  heart  to  God. 
She  had  never  seen  the  depth  of  the  wickedness 
which  often  led  her  to  rebel  against  him,  and 
to  refuse  to  obey  his  commands ;  but  she  had 
been  carefully  taught  to  distinguish  between 
right  and  wrong,  and  she  never  for  a  moment 
thought  of  doubting  the  truth  of  what  had  been 
often  read  to  her  from  the  Bible  —  that  if  she 
should  die  in  her  sins,  she  could  never  be  happy 
in  the  presence  of  God  and  her  Saviour. 

Young  as  she  was,  she  had  had  many  seasons 
of  sorrow  on  account  of  her  sins,  and  an 
earnest,  ardent  desire  to  be  good.  The  thought 
of  Jesus  dying  for  her  was  what  impressed  her 


THE    SEWING    SOCIETY.  29 

most  deeply ;  and  she  would  often  weep  to 
think  it  would  wound  him  that  she  refused  to 
give  him  her  heart.  Especially  on  the  evening 
of  the  Sabbath,  —  that  precious  season  afterwards 
so  fondly  remembered,  when  Dr.  Merton  gath- 
ered his  family  around  him  for  evening  prayer,  — 
the  Sabbath  lessons  were  repeated  and  explained, 
a  chapter  read  in  which  he  turned  aside  from 
the  usual  place  in  course,  and  read  some  account 
of  the  Saviour,  his  love  to  children,  and  his  de- 
sire for  their  salvation;  then  a  hymn  was  sung, 
in  which  Louise,  and  even  little  Sarah,  joined; 
after  which  they  all  knelt  down,  while  the 
Christian  father  offered  a  fervent  prayer  for  him- 
self and  for  those  so  dear  to  him.  His  faithful, 
devoted  companion  was  first  mentioned,  and  then 
one  by  one  the  different  members  of  the  family. 
God's  blessing  was  earnestly  sought  for  the  dear 
absent  ones,  and  then  for  those  still  under  the 
parental  roof. 

So  solemn  and  tender  were  these  seasons,  that 
Louise    sometimes    wished    she    could    frame    an 


30  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 

excuse  for  absenting  herself.  "  For,"  said  she 
to  her  mother,  "  I  feel  that  I  am  so  wicked  not 
to  love  such  a  blessed  Saviour !  and  I  deter- 
mine to  love  him;  but,  0,  I  forget  it  so 
soon ! " 

Yet  the   precious   seed  was  sown,  and  in   due 
time  sprang  up  and  bore  fruit. 


THE   PATCH-WORK    QUULT.  31 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE     PATCH-WOBK     QUILT. 

The  Berry  Party.  —  Mrs.  Morton's  Advice.  —  Second  Meeting  of 
the  United  States  Sewing  Society.  —  Perseverance  of  Ag- 
nes and  Louise.  — Debate  about  the  Sale  of  the  Quilt. 

A  WEEK  passed  ;  Saturday  morning  came  —  a 
clear,  pleasant,  sunny  morning  in  July. 

"  O,  what  a  pleasant  day!"  said  Louise  to 
her  sister,  as  they  were  dressing.  "  I  am 
so  glad !  The  society  is  to  meet  here,  you 
know." 

"Yes,"  replied  Sarah,  "but  I  heard  Phebe 
tell  Lucy  Lovell,  if  it  was  pleasant,  she  meant 
to  ask  her  mother  to  let  her  go  '  berrying.'  " 

"  Go  berrying  !  "  repeated  Louise.  "  Why,  she 
must  have  forgotten  the  society.  I  will  see  her, 
and  remind  her  of  it ;  and  you  may  tell  any  of 
the  girls  whom  you  see,  that  I  shall  expect 
them  here." 


32  TRYING   TO    BE   USEFUL. 

Louise  and  Sarah  were  on  their  way  to  school, 
when  they  saw  Agnes,  Lucy,  and  Ellen,  running 
across  the  Common  to  meet  them. 

"I  was  just  going  to  your  house,"  shouted 
Agnes,  as  soon  as  she  had  come  within  speak- 
ing distance.  "  Mother  says  we  may  go  berry- 
ing. Joe  Turner  was  at  our  house  this  morn- 
ing, and  he  says  the  blueberries  are  ripe  and 
very  thick  in  your  father's  pasture.  I  have  been 
to  Ellen's  house,  and  her  mother  says  she  may 
go ;  and  I  was  just  going  for  you  when  I  saw 
you  on  your  way  to  school."  Agnes  was 
obliged  to  stop  to  recover  breath. 

For  one  moment  Louise  thought,  "  0,  I  should 
so  like  to  go ; "  but  then  she  said,  "  Why, 
Agnes,  have  you  forgotten  the  society  ?  " 

"  So  it  is ;  I  had  forgotten  it.  But  no  mat- 
ter ;  we  can  meet  next  Saturday,  you  know,  and 
we  hardly  ever  have  such  a  pleasant  day  as 
this."  Agnes  looked  up  at  the  clear  blue  sky, 
and  continued,  "  Besides,  societies  never  meet  so 
often.  Once  a  fortnight  is  enough." 


THE    PATCH-WORK    QUILT.  33 

"  O,"  said  Louise,  more  than  half  inclined  to 
cry,  "  I  don't  think  it's  right  to  give  it  up  so." 

While  they  had  been  talking,  Phebe  had  come 
up,  and  Agnes  said,  "  Well,  here  are  all  of  us ; 
so  we  will  take  a  vote.  Those  who  wish  to  go 
berrying  will  please  raise  their  hands." 

Every  hand  except  Louise's  was  raised.  She 
looked  very  sorrowful. 

"  Now,  you  see  I  can't  help  going,"  contin- 
ued Agnes,  who  felt  sorry  to  see  her  friend  take 
it  so  much  to  heart ;  "  and  I  promise  you  I  cer- 
tainly will  go  to  the  society  next  time." 

"  Will  you,  really,  truly,  dear  Agnes,  and  not 
put  it  off  for  any  thing  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  will ;  but  come,  we  shall  be  late  at 
school." 

When  Louise  went  home  at  noon,  she  related 
to  her  mother  all  that  had  passed,  and  asked 
what  she  should  do.  Mrs.  Merton  saw  that  she 
had  a  conscientious  difficulty  about  going  with 
her  companions,  when  she  felt  that  she  had 
pledged  herself  to  the  society,  and  she  deter- 
3 


34  TEYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

mined  to  encourage  her  to  persevere  in  what  she 
had  been  so  anxious  to  undertake,  while,  at  the 
same  time,  she  would  plan  a  little  excursion,  to 
take  place  on  Wednesday  afternoon,  which  would 
not  interfere  with  the  object  they  had  in  view. 

"  Don't  you  think,  Louise,  that  you  could  per- 
suade Agnes  to  wait  until  Wednesday?  And 
then  you  could  all  go  together,  if  it  should  be 
pleasant.  You  and  your  little  friends  may  bring 
home  your  berries,  and  I  will  have  some  nice 
milk  ready,  when,  if  their  parents  will  consent, 
they  all  can  take  supper  with  you." 

"  O,  thank  you,  my  dear  mother,"  replied 
Louise,  throwing  her  arms  around  her  mother's 
neck.  "  How  nicely  you  always  plan  for  me. 
But  may  I  not  run  and  ask  Agnes  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear ;  and  Sarah  may  go  in  and 
tell  Ellen  the  plan." 

"  What  a  dear,  good  mother  mine  is ! "  solilo- 
quized Louise,  as  she  ran  joyfully  across  the 
Common  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Lovell.  When  she 
approached,  she  could  see  that  Phebe  and  Lucy 


THE    PATCH-WORK    QTJILT.  35 

were  standing  upon  the  steps  before  the  south 
door,  waiting  for  Agnes,  who  soon  appeared, 
with  two  little  baskets  in  her  hand. 

"  0,  here  comes  Louise  —  that's  right  —  I 
thought  you'd  go." 

"  Where's  Sarah  ? "  cried  Lucy,  before  Louise 
could  have  time  to  speak.  In  truth,  she  began 
to  be  afraid  it  was  too  late  to  turn  them  aside 
from  their  proposed  expedition ;  but  slackening 
her  pace,  she  walked  slowly  up  to  the  group. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  Won't  your 
mother  let  you  go  ? "  said  one  of  the  girls. 

"  She  has  sent  me  to  invite  you  all  to  our 
house  on  Wednesday  afternoon,  and  she  says 
we  can  take  our  baskets,  and  go  and  get  some 
berries,  and  she'll  have  some  nice  supper  ready 
for  us,  and  we  can  eat  our  berries  with  milk." 

"  Well,  girls,"  said  Agnes,  "  I  move  that  we 
all  accept  the  invitation ;  and  now  Dr.  Merton 
has  put  up  such  a  nice  swing  in  the  grove,  we 
can  have  a  beautiful  time  after  supper,  before  we 
come  home." 


36  TKYING    TO    BE    USEFUL. 

"'  And  she  hopes,"  continued  Louise,  "  to  see 
you  all  at  our  house  this  afternoon,  to  the  so- 
ciety." Louise  put  her  hand  in  Agnes',  and 
waited  to  see  what  they  would  say. 

"  I'll  give  up  going  berrying  this  afternoon,  if 
you  will,  girls ;  and  as  I  am  the  president,  I 
suppose  I  ought  to  be  there." 

Louise  looked  very  happy,  and  thanked  Ag- 
nes by  a  look  of  affection.  But  the  others  were 
not  so  easily  induced  to  postpone  their  pleasure. 

"  Let  them  go,"  whispered  Agnes  ;  "  you  and 
I  can  do  more  if  we  are  alone,  and  don't  have 
to  fix  work  for  them." 

So  it  was  decided.  The  basket  was  carried 
back  into  the  house,  and  Louise  joyfully  led 
Agnes  home,  carrying  in  one  hand  a  large  bag, 
containing  the  calico  for  the  quilt. 

Spreading  the  pieces  out  upon  the  bed,  they 
went  to  work  in  earnest,  and  as  they  had  no 
officers  to  choose,  or  business  to  occupy  them, 
they  really  made  rapid  progress.  How  pleas- 
antly passed  the  time !  They  cut  out  the  work, 


THE   PATCH-WORK   QUILT.  37 

and  stitched,  by  turns.  Block  after  block  was 
sewed  together,  the  corners  being  made  exactly 
to  match. 

"  I  wonder  who  will  buy  our  quilt  ? "  said 
Louise. 

"  O,  we  can  sell  it  easy  enough,"  replied  Ag- 
nes; "how  much  shall  we  ask  for  it?" 

"  Mother  says  we  shall  probably  get  more  for 
it  than  it  is  really  worth,  because  people  like  to 
encourage  little  girls  when  they  try  to  do  good." 

"  Well,  it  really  is  a  great  deal  of  work  to 
make  a  whole  quilt,  and  then  to  sew  it  all  to- 
gether. I  wonder  when  we  shall  get  it  done. 
If  we  could  always  have  such  a  nice  time  as  we 
have  had  to-day,  I  dare  say  we  could  finish  it 
in  a  month." 

Louise  could  talk  while  she  worked,  and, 
scarcely  raising  her  eyes,  she  said,  "  O,  no !  we 
only  sew  on  it  Saturday  in  the  afternoon ;  but  I 
mean  to  persevere,  if  it  does  take  a  long  time." 

"So  do  I,"  said  her  companion;  "but  I  wish 
we  had  not  asked  the  other  girls  to  join,  for  it 


38  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

will  take  so  long  to  see  to  their  work ;  and  then 
it  will  not  be  done  nicely." 

"  Perhaps,"  replied  Louise,  "  they  won't  want 
to  come  any  more ;  and  then,  if  their  mothers 
see  we  are  really  making  good  use  of  them,  they 
may  let  us  keep  their  pieces  of  calico."  These 
had  been  paid  in  by  the  little  girls  instead  of  an 
admission  fee  in  money. 

At  five  o'clock,  Agnes  and  Louise  counted 
their  squares,  and  found  they  had  completed  ten. 
With  what  perfect  delight  they  spread  them  out 
in  order  upon  the  bed,  to  judge  how  many  would 
be  required !  They  walked  around  and  around 
it,  exclaiming,  "  O,  what  a  beauty  it  will  be ! 
I  am  sure  we  can  sell  it." 

Week  after  week  passed,  and  still  "  the  friends  " 
did  not  tire  in  their  labor  of  love.  They  had 
joined  several  little  parties  of  pleasure  on  the 
afternoon  of  Wednesday,  and  had  enjoyed  them 
far  more  on  account  of  the  self-denial  they  had 
practised.  Once  or  twice,  Agnes  had  seemed 
inclined  to  excuse  herself  for  an  afternoon;  but 


THE   PATCH-WORK    QUILT.  39 

a  sorrowful  look  from  her  dear  Louise  decided 
her  to  forego  any  pleasure  rather  than  give 
pain  to  one  she  loved  so  dearly.  Autumn 
had  now  come,  with  its  rich  treasures  of  fruit 
and  gaudy  flowers.  Every  night,  on  her  return 
from  school,  Louise  would  run  into  the  garden 
to  look  at  her  china-asters,  marigolds,  and  ver- 
henas,  and  think  she  was  bidding  them  a  last 
adieu  ;  but  still  the  weather  was  mild,  and  the 
frost  had  not  come  to  pluck  them  with  his  icy 
hand. 

The  forests  were  beginning  to  put  off  their  gay 
attire,  while  the  happy  songsters,  whose  home 
was  in  their  branches,  were  trilling  their  last 
notes,  before  taking  their  departure  for  a  sunnier 
clime,  until  the  snows  of  winter  should  be  passed. 

Until  now,  Louise  and  Agnes  had  worked  by 
themselves ;  but  as  they  had  nearly  as  many 
squares  as  would  be  requisite,  Mrs.  Merton  told 
them  they  might  bring  their  work  into  her  cham- 
ber, and  she  would  help  them  to  arrange  it  for 
sewing  together. 


40  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

The  little  girls  were  very  much  encouraged  by 
this  offer,  and  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon  they 
had  made  quite  a  large  piece,  while  £he  rest  was 
nicely  caught  together,  so  that  they  would  know 
exactly  how  it  was  to  be  sewed. 

Mrs.  Merton  took  this  opportunity  to  commend 
them  highly  for  their  industry  and  perseverance, 
and  for  the  neatness  of  their  work.  She  talked 
freely  with  them  about  their  plan,  and  found 
them  determined  to  appropriate  their  money  to 
missionary  purposes,  but  had  not  quite  concluded 
in  what  particular  manner.  They  expected  to 
realize  a  large  sum.  Indeed,  each  seemed  to 
shrink  from  naming  any  particular  price,  lest  it 
should  be  more  than  the  other  would  think  they 
had*  any  right  to  ask.  Now,  they  must  talk  over 
these  matters  ;  as  the  time  approached  to  sell  it, 
they  began  to  feel  rather  more  anxious  to  find  a 
purchaser. 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  too  bad,"  asked  Louise,  one 
afternoon,  "if  no  one  should  buy  it,  after  we 
have  taken  so  much  pains  ? " 


THE   PATCH-WORK   QUILT.  41 

"  Yes,  it  would,  indeed ! "  replied  Agnes.  "  If 
they  don't,  we'll  keep  it  ourselves;  but  I  shall 
never  trouble  myself  to  make  another,  if  we  dorifc 
get  a  good  handsome  price  for  this." 

"  O !  Agnes,  I'll  tell  you  what  we  can  do. 
We  can  give  the  quilt  itself  to  the  missionaries. 
You  know  they  have  to  carry  such  things  when 
they  go ;  but  then  we  should  have  to  quilt  it, 
and  I  don't  know  how  we  could  do  that,  as  we 
neither  of  us  know  how  to  quilt.  But  I  dare 
say,  some  way  will  be  opened,  as  mother  says, 
for  us  to  sell  it." 


42  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE   PLAID   CLOAK. 

The  Poor  Student's  Surtout. — Proposal  of  Louise. — Interview 
between  Dr.  Merton  and  his  Wife.  —  His  Aid  in  the  Pur- 
chase of  a  Cloak. 

DUEING  the  week  following  the  events  narrated 
in  the  preceding  chapter,  a  gentleman  came  to 
reside  in  the  family  of  Dr.  Merton,  for  a  few 
months  previous  to  his  embarkation  for  Constan- 
tinople as  a  missionary.  He  soon  gained  the 
affection  of  Louise  and  Sarah,  and  also  of  Agnes, 
who  spent  much  of  her  time  out  of  school  with 
her  friend.  But  "  the  missionary,"  as  the  children 
called  him,  was  very  poor.  He  had  made  great 
exertions  to  help  himself  while  preparing  for  the 
ministry.  But  as  this  necessarily  interrupted  his 
studies,  his  friends  advised  him  to  avail  himself 
of  charitable  aid.  This  was  readily  procured  for 
him,  by  applying  to  what  I  think  is  called  the 


THE   PLAID    CLOAK.  43 

Ladies'  Jews'  Society,  in  Boston,  as  it  was  for 
the  Jews  in  Turkey  for  whom  he  was  destined 
to  labor. 

The  benevolent  ladies  composing  this  society 
cheerfully  undertook  to  supply  him  with  a  certain 
sum  every  month,  which  had  enabled  him  so  far 
to  keep  out  of  debt.  He  was  decently  dressed ; 
but  one  bleak,  cold  day,  he  was  obliged  to  walk 
some  distance ;  and  as  Louise  met  him  just  going 
out  of  the  gate,  she  saw  that  he  had  on  an  old 
surtout,  which  was  much  too  small  for  him,  so 
that  he  could  not  put  on  the  sleeves,  but  but- 
toned it  around  the  neck. 

Louise  ran  in  haste  to  tell  her  mother,  who 
had  also  seen  him  as  he  passed  the  window. 
She  felt  very  much  like  crying,  to  see  so  good 
a  man  with  so  poor  a  coat,  though,  as  she  after- 
wards laughingly  told  Agnes,  "it  was  just  the 
color  of  a  meal  bag,  and  looked  as  if  it  was  made 
before  the  flood." 

That   night    Louise    took    her    book,    and  sat 


44  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 

looking  very  intently  into  the  bright  wood  fire, 
which  was  cheerfully  blazing  on  the  hearth. 

Mrs.  Merton  perceived  that  some  subject  busily 
occupied  her,  as  she  paid  no  attention  to  what 
was  passing  around  her.  After  a  while,  looking 
up  and  seeing  that  she  was  alone  with  her  mother, 
she  asked  abruptly,  "  How  much  does  a  cloak 
cost?" 

Mrs.  Merton  smiled,  as  she  answered,  "  That 
depends  very  much  upon  the  quality  and  size 
of  it." 

"Well,  mother,  I'll  tell  you  my  secret,"  said 
Louise,  after  a  short  pause,  and  sighing  at  the 
importance  of  the  subject.  "  I've  been  thinking 
about  Mr.  S.'s  old  coat ;  and  if  Agnes  will  con- 
sent, I  should  like  to  buy  him  a  new  cloak  with 
the  money  we  get  for  our  quilt." 

Mrs.  Merton  did  not  discourage  her  little 
daughter,  by  telling  her  that  a  cloak  would  cost 
much  more  than  they  could  command ;  but  she 
told  her  she  might  see  what  Agnes  would  say, 


THE   PLAID    CLOAK.  45 

"  and  in  the  mean  time,"  continued  she,  "  I  will 
talk  with  your  father  about  it." 

This  was  quite  encouragement  enough  to  set 
the  affectionate  heart  of  Louise  beating  rapidly. 
The  thought  of  providing  a  warm  garment  for 
one  she  so  much  loved  and  respected,  delighted 
her.  The  next  morning  she  confided  her  im- 
portant secret  to  her  friend,  who  readily  and  joy- 
fully fell  into  the  plan.  It  gave  a  definiteness 
to  their  charity  that  pleased  her. 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  "  I  should  like  it  so  much, 
because  then  we  shall  know  just  what  becomes  of 
our  money ;  and  when  Mr.  S.  wears  it,  how 
happy  we  shall  feel  that  we  have  made  him  so 
comfortable ! " 

"And,"  responded  Louise,  "he'll  wonder  so 
where  it  came  from,  for  I  wouldn't  have  him 
know  on  any  account  who  gave  it  to  him ; 
though  as  he  is  now  our  Sabbath  school  teacher, 
I  think  it  is  perfectly  proper  that  we  should  make 
him  a  present/' 

"  We  never  can  help  his  finding  it  out,  and  I 


46  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

think  it  would  be  better  to  write  a  little  note  with 
it,  and  tell  him  who  gave  it  to  him." 

"  O,  no  !  "  replied  Louise ;  "  I  wouldn't  do 
that;  I  planned  it  all  out  last  night.  When 
the  cloak  is  purchased,  you  and  I  will  go  into 
his  room  when  he  is  absent,  and  put  it  on  his 
bed;  and  we'll  write  on  a  card,  'Mr,  S.,  from 
a  friend.'  " 

"  But  here  are  two  friends,"  said  Agnes,  "  and 
that  would  be  telling  a  lie." 

Louise  looked  serious  for  a  moment,  as  the 
thought  of  deceiving  passed  through  her  mind. 
"  O,  well,"  said  she,  cheerfully,  "  you  may  call 
it  all  your  present.  Have  you  any  objection  to 
that?" 

Agnes  replied,  "  I  do  not  think  that  it  would 
be  quite  right ;  but  we  shall  have  time  to  settle 
it  when  the  cloak  is  bought."  So  they  resolved 
to  keep  the  whole  affair  quite  secret  for  the 
present.  During  the  day  Mrs.  Merton  talked 
with  her  husband  about  the  price  of  a  cloak, 
and  told  him  of  the  desire  of  Louise  to  procure 
one  for  Mr.  S. 


THE   PLAID    CLOAK.  47 

Dr.  Merton  highly  approved  the  undertaking, 
but  said  it  would  be  best  to  ascertain,  in  some 
way,  if  Mr.  S.  had  no  other  garment ;  and  if  he 
had  not,  then  he  himself  would  take  Louise  and 
Agnes  to  the  village,  and  inquire  of  the  tailor 
about  the  expense.  "  It  is  best,"  continued  he, 
"  to  let  them  do  the  business ;  but  how  much 
money  have  they  ?  " 

Mrs.  Merton  smiled  as  she  replied,  "  They 
have  no  money  yet;  they  have  a  quilt  nearly 
completed." 

"  And  how  much  is  the  quilt  worth  ?  " 

Mrs.  Merton  replied  that  she  really  could  not 
judge ;  she  should  think  at  the  most  not  more 
than  two  dollars.  "  But,"  continued  she,  seeing 
her  husband  looked  disappointed,  "  they  have 
no  idea  of  the  price  of  a  cloak ;  and  as  they 
have  really  been  very  persevering,  I  feel  sad  at 
the  thought  of  disappointing  them." 

"  Well,"  said  the  doctor,  "  he  must  have  a 
cloak ;  that  is,  if  he  has  not  one  already.  But 
I  can't  see  how  they  will  be  able  to  accom- 
plish it." 


48  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

Louise  and  Agnes,  now  that  they  had  a  defi- 
nite object  in  view,  concluded  not  only  to  work 
on  Wednesday  afternoon,  but  to  obtain  leave  for 
Agnes  to  spend  the  night  with  her  friend,  that 
they  might  sew  upon  it  in  the  evening.  This 
favor  was  readily  granted ;  and  they  were  so 
industrious,  that,  when  they  folded  their  work  for 
the  night,  they  found  that  in  another  hour  they 
could  probably  complete  it.  Saturday  afternoon 
arrived ;  the  quilt  was  done,  and  admired  by  all 
the  family.  The  little  girls  had  spread  it  upon 
the  bed,  had  walked  across  the  room  to  view  it 
from  a  distance,  and  had  gradually  advanced 
nearer  to  see  it  in  every  light.  Indeed,  it  was 
a  very  pretty  one ;  the  dark  and  light  pieces 
were  equally  distributed  over  the  whole,  and 
formed  a  very  good  contrast.  But  the  best  of 
all  was  the  sweet  reflection  that  they  had  taken 
every  stitch  themselves ;  having  concluded  at 
their  second  meeting  to  make  the  blocks  of  a 
different  pattern,  they  had  laid  aside  what  little 
had  been  done  at  the  first. 


THE   PLAID    CLOAK.  49 

While  the  quilt  was  still  spread  out,  Dr. 
Merton  came  in  to  look  for  Louise,  and  admired 
their  work  to  their  hearts'  content.  "  But,"  said 
he,  taking  a  hand  of  each,  while  a  tear  of  affec- 
tion was  in  his  eye,  "  I  am  best  pleased  that 
my  little  girls  have  exhibited  so  much  persever- 
ance from  the  desire  to  do  good."  Then  giving 
each  a  kiss,  he  told  them  he  was  going  to  the 
village  to  do  a  little  business,  and  he  added, 
smiling,  "  I  should  like  your  advice,  and  you 
may  go  too.  Kate  is  already  harnessed,  so  get 
ready  at  once."  The  eyes  of  the  little  girls  ac- 
tually sparkled  with  delight,  as  they  ran  to  pre- 
pare for  the  ride. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  village,  Dr.  Merton 
went  directly  to  the  tailor's,  and  taking  them 
into  the  store,  inquired  of  Mr.  Jones  what 
materials  he  had  suitable  for  a  warm  winter 
cloak. 

Mr.  Jones  looked  inquiringly  at  the  children, 
as  if  to  ask  whether  it  was  a  child's  cloak  that 
was  needed.  Dr.  Merton  said,  "  Camlet  or  plaid ; 
4 


50  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 

you  want  something  that  will  wear  well,  I  sup- 
pose," turning  to  the  little  girls. 

So  Mr.  Jones  took  down  piece  after  piece,  and 
laid  them  upon  the  counter,  taking  up  a  corner 
of  each  as  he  did  so,  and  snapping  it  in  his 
hand  to  try  its  firmness.  At  last  he  took  down 
one  roll  of  cloth  from  a  high  shelf,  which  Agnes 
and  Louise  thought  just  the  thing. 

Dr.  Merton,  having  looked  at  all  the  cloths, 
approved  their  choice,  as  it  was  not  only  a 
pretty  pattern,  but  of  good  quality.  "  And  now, 
Mr.  Jones,"  said  he,  "  these  little  girls  wish  to 
buy  a  cloak.  How  much  shall  you  ask  for  one 
of  this  cloth,  lined  with  green  baize,  and  a  vel- 
vet collar?  I  suppose  you  will  want  a  velvet 
collar,"  turning  to  Louise. 

"  O,  yes,  sir,"  she  replied. 

Mr.  Jones  looked  as  if  he  did  not  at  all  un- 
derstand the  proceedings.  "  The  cloak,"  con- 
tinued Dr.  Merton,  "is  to  be  made  to  fit  me ; 
perhaps  not  quite  so  long  "  —  looking  down. 

The  tailor  took   out  his   pencil,  and  began   to 


THE   PLAID    CLOAK.  51 

make  his  calculations,  while  Louise  and  Agnes 
stood  in  breathless  anticipation,  longing,  yet  al- 
most fearing,  to  know  the  result.  They  could 
hear  him  say  to  himself  as  he  wrote,  — 

"12  yards  camlet  plaid,  42  cents  per  yard, 
$5,04;  6  do.  green  baize,  50  cents -per  yard, 
$3,00." 

Then  looking  up,  he  said,  "  Is  it  to  give  in 
charity?  If  so,  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  throw 
in  something  towards  the  making." 

Louise  blushed  deeply,  and  looked  at  her 
father,  Avho  replied, — 

"Well,  Louise,  I  can  tell  so  much;"  then 
turning  to  Mr.  Jones,  he  said,  "  Yes,  sir ;  these 
little  girls  have  a  friend  who  is  in  need  of  a 
cloak,  and  they  are  trying  to  get  him  one  with 
their  own  earnings." 

A  sudden  thought  seemed  to  dart  through  the 
mind  of  the  tailor,  for  he  turned  away  abruptly, 
and  went  to  an  inner  room,  and  brought  out 
the  old  coat  which  had  so  excited  the  compas- 
sion of  Louise.  Holding  it  up,  he  said,  "  Just 


52  TRYING    TO    BE    USEFUL. 

see  this  coat !  Mr.  S.,  one  of  the  holiest  men 
on  earth,  came  yesterday  for  me  to  let  out  the 
sleeves.  He  says  it  will  do  for  him  another 
winter  very  well.  I  shan't  charge  him  a  cent 
for  repairing  it,  but  I  wish  somebody  would 
give  him  a  cloak." 

Dr.  Merton  could  not  help  smiling  as  he 
looked  at  Louise.  There  she  stood,  blushing, 
smiling,  and  half  crying  at  the  same  moment ; 
smiling  that  their  conduct  should  be  approved 
even  by  Mr.  Jones  —  sorrowing  that  their  secret 
should  be  discovered. 

"  Well,"  continued  Mr.  Jones,  evidently  satis- 
fied with  his  observations,  "  I  shan't  charge  you 
much  for  the  making.  Let  me  see,"  looking  at 
his  memorandum,  "  I  think  I  can  afford  you  a 
good  cloak,  with  a  square,  full  cape,  for  ten 
dollars." 

"  Ten  dollars !  "  exclaimed  Louise,  in  aston- 
ishment. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mr.  Jones,  not  understand- 
ing her  surprise ;  "  I  know  it's  cheap,  but  I  can 


THE    PLAID    CLOAK.  53 

guess  for  whom  it  is,  and  I  shan't  charge  so 
much  for  it." 

Dr.  Merton  understood  too  well  their  disap- 
pointment, and,  taking  out  his  watch,  said, 
"  You  can  decide  with  your  mother  at  home, 
and  I  will  let  Mr.  Jones  know  at  another  time." 
Then  thanking  him  for  so  favorable  an  offer,  — 
which  was  indeed  lower  than  he  had  anticipated, 
—  and  requesting  him  to  say  nothing  about  it,  he 
led  the  little  girls  to  the  chaise,  and  started  for 
home.  They  had  not  gone  many  rods  before 
Louise  was  sobbing  aloud,  and  Agnes  trying 
hard  to  restrain  her  tears.  Dr.  Merton  took 
the  hand  of  Louise,  and  tried  to  soothe  and 
encourage  her. 

"  Did  the  cloak  cost  more  than  you  expected? " 
asked  he,  turning  to  Agnes. 

"  O,  yes,  sir,"  replied  she,  "a  great  deal  more!" 

"  I  am  afraid,"  sobbed  Louise,  "  that  we  can 
never  get  it.  O,  I  did  not  think  it  would  be 
so  much." 

"  My  little  daughter  had  better  try  to  restrain 


54  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

her  grief,"  said  the  good  doctor,  gently.  "You 
have  been  very  industrious,  and  perhaps  you  will 
have  help.  But  supposing  I  should  lend  you 
some  money  to  make  up  the  sum  requisite  — 
would  you  be  as  persevering  till  you  had  paid 
me?" 

The  effect  of  this  proposition  was  electrical. 
The  tears  were  all  dried.  Happy  smiles  danced 
around  her  little  mouth,  and,  shaking  back  her 
curls,  she  said,  "  O  father  !  will  you  ?  We  will 
pay  you  —  won't  we,  Agnes?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Agnes  ;  "  we  can  make  another 
quilt;"  and  by  the  time  our  heroines  arrived  at 
home,  they  were  as  confident  of  success  as  ever. 


LITTLE    FOLKS    ENCOURAGED.  55 


CHAPTER    IV. 

LITTLE      FOLKS     E  N  C  O  IT  B  A  G  E  D  . 

\ 

Sale  and  Return  of  the  Quilt  three  Times.  —  Invisible  Pin- 
cushions.—  The  Watch  Chain.  —  Presentation  of  the  Cloak. 
—  Devout  Gratitude,  and  Acknowledgment. 

ON  Monday  commenced  a  series  of  public 
meetings,  which  called  together  Christians  and 
scholars  from  all  the  neighboring  towns.  Sev- 
eral well-known  benevolent  ladies  were  expected 
to  be  present,  and  Mrs.  Merton  thought  this 
would  be  a  favorable  opportunity  to  sell  the 
quilt. 

On  Tuesday  afternoon  Louise  was  very  much 
surprised  and  pleased  at  receiving  a  message  to 
call  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Fuller,  and  bring  with 
her  any  articles  which  were  for  sale  in  "  The 
United  States  Sewing  Society."  She  ran  to  ask 
leave  of  her  mother,  who  did  not  look  as  much 
surprised  as  she  had  expected,  but  said,  "  You 


56  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

may  put  on  your  coat  and  bonnet,  my  dear, 
while  I  fold  the  quilt  nicely  in  a  towel." 

"  I  do  wish  Agnes  were  here  to  go  with  me," 
said  Louise ;  and  before  she  had  finished  speak- 
ing, Agnes'  step  was  heard  upon  the  stairs. 
Taking  the  bundle,  they  started  together  for  the 
house  of  Mr.  Fuller.  As  they  approached,  Louise 
grew  quite  fluttered,  and  her  heart  beat  faster 
and  faster.  She  was  very  diffident,  and,  while 
much  pleased  to  go,  it  was  a  real  trial  for  her 
to  appear  before  strangers.  Agnes  seemed  to 
have  more  confidence,  and  talked  pleasantly, 
holding  Louise  firmly  by  the  hand,  and  trying 
to  cheer  her. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  happened  to  come  over 
just  as  you  did,"  said  Louise.  "  I  don't  believe 
I  should  have  dared  to  go  in  alone." 

Ellen  was  nowhere  in  sight ;  so  they  rung 
the  door  bell,  and  were  soon  shown  into  the 
parlor,  where  sat  a  number  of  ladies,  waiting 
for  tea. 

Louise  saw  at   a    glance  that  Mrs.  Fuller  was 


LITTLE   FOLKS    ENCOURAGED.  57 

not  present,  and  that  the  ladies  were  all  stran- 
gers to  her.  There  she  stood  at  the  door,  with 
eyes  cast  down,  blushing  painfully.  Agnes, 
feeling  that  she  had  not  been  invited,  stood  just 
behind  her.  But  she  was  not  suffered  to  stand 
there  long.  A  very  kind  voice  said,  — 

"  O,  here  are  the  little  girls  with  thfe  quilt. 
Come  to  me,  my  dear." 

That  voice,  which  so  often  spoke  comfort  and 
consolation  to  the  afflicted,  has  long  ago  been 
tuned  to  everlasting  songs,  before  the  throne  of 
God  —  but  Louise  will  never,  never  forget  it. 
She  felt  sure  she  had  one  friend  present,  and 
instantly  walking  across  the  room,  placed  her 
little  hand  in  the  one  so  kindly  extended  to  re- 
ceive it.  Agnes  followed  ;  and  while  one  of  the 
ladies  unpinned  the  towel  containing  the  quilt, 
the  children  were  beginning  to  feel  quite  at  home 
with  their  new  friend.  She  had  given  them 
each  a  kiss,  but  seemed  to  be  particularly  inter- 
ested in  Louise,  who  really  looked  very  en- 
gaging, as  she  stood  with  her  hand  in  that  of 


58  TRYING   TO   BE   USEFUL. 

Miss  C.,  and  answered  her  questions  with  a 
mixture  of  confidence  and  diffidence. 

The  ladies  then  arose  to  look  at  the  work, 
praising  the  evenness  of  the  stitches,  and  the 
great  neatness  and  taste  with  which  the  squares 
were  matched  together. 

"  I  really  should  like  to  keep  it  as  a  curi- 
osity," whispered  Miss  C.  to  a  lady  standing  by 
her  and  holding  one  corner  of  the  quilt,  "  but 
I  suppose  it  would  be  a  greater  help  to  them 
for  me  to  return  it."  Then,  taking  out  her 
purse,  she  put  a  bill  into  the  hand  of  Louise, 
and  said,  "  I  am  so  pleased  with  your  benevo- 
lent design,  my  dear  children,  that  I  shall  buy 
the  quilt  of  you  and  return  it,  that  you  may  sell 
it  again,  as  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  be  able 
to  do." 

"I  thank  you!  /  thank  you!"  was  all  the 
children  could  say,  though  their  hearts  were  full ; 
but  Miss  C.  needed  no  more  ;  their  happy  coun- 
tenances expressed  more  than  words  could  have 
conveyed.  She  handed  them  the  quilt,  which 


LITTLE   FOLKS    ENCOURAGED.  59 

one  of  the  ladies  had  kindly  pinned  up  for 
them;  and  then,  seeing  it  would  be  a  relief  to 
them  to  be  alone,  she  kissed  them,  and  bade 
them  good  by. 

Eternity  alone  can  tell  the  influence  of  that 
one  kind  act,  kindly  performed,  upon  the  heart 
of  Louise.  In  after  years,  the  remembrance  of 
it  often  encouraged  her  in  her  efforts  to  do  good, 
and  checked  her  when  weary  in  her  Master's 
service. 

As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  the  gate,  our 
young  friends  ran  every  step  of  the  way  home ; 
and  Mrs.  Merton,  who  saw  them  coming,  antici- 
pated the  happy  result  of  their  visit. 

"  See  here,  mother,"  exclaimed  Louise,  burst- 
ing into  the  room,  while  Agnes  followed  with 
the  bundle.  "  She  has  given  us  this,  and  the 
quilt  back,  too.  I  have  not  stopped  to  see  how 
much  it  is,  I  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  tell  you. 
O,  Agnes,  look !  it  is  three  dollars  !  "  And  now, 
free  from  restraint,  the  friends  poured  out  all 
their  joy,  in  which  Mrs.  Merton  heartily  united. 


60  TRYING   TO   BE   USEFUL. 

Louise  jumped  and  danced  in  the  excess  of 
her  emotion ;  but  Agnes,  being  very  impatient  to 
communicate  the  good  news  to  her  mother,  soon 
took  her  leave,  carrying  with  her  the  quilt, 
which  Mrs.  Lovell  had  not  seen  since  it  was 
completed. 

The  next  morning,  before  Louise  had  finished 
making  her  bed,  Agnes  came  running  in,  bring- 
ing the  towel  which  had  contained  their  work, 

s 

and  laid  upon  the  table  two  bills  and  some  sil- 
ver. She  had  not  yet  spoken  one  word,  and 
her  companion  looked  at  her  with  astonishment. 

"  I  have  sold  the  quilt  twice  more,"  at  length 
said  Agnes,  in  reply  to  the  wonder  expressed  in 
the  countenance  of  Louise  —  "  once  for  three  dol- 
lars, and  once  for  two  and  a  half;  so  now  we 
have  eight  dollars  fifty  cents  ;  and  there  are  two 
ladies  at  our  house  who  will  buy  '  invisible ' 
pin-cushions,  if  we  can  make  them  this  after- 
noon." 

"I  can!  I  can!"  joyfully  replied  Louise; 
"  you  know  aunt  Maria  gave  me  the  pattern, 


LITTLE   FOLKS   ENCOURAGED.  61 

and  taught  me  to  make  them.  But  who  bought 
the  quilt  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  went  home,  and  found  mother  in 
the  parlor  with  ever  so  many  ladies  and  gentle- 
men, and  I  told  mother  all  about  our  going  to 
Mrs.  Fuller's,  and  selling  the  quilt  to  that  beau- 
tiful lady ;  and  then  Mrs.  R.  asked  me  ever  so 
many  questions.  I  told  her,  though  I  was  the 
president,  I  never  should  have  done  any  thing 
without  you  ;  and  that's  true." 

"O  Agnes,"  said  Louise,  kissing  her  ten- 
derly, "you  know  you  have  always  been  ready 
to  deny  yourself  pleasure,  that  you  might  be  at 
the  society.  But  what  else  did  they  do  ? " 

"  Well,  mother  sent  me  out  of  the  room ;  and 
now  I  know  it  was  that  she  might  tell  her  what 
we  were  trying  to  get ;  for  when  I  went  in 
again,  Mrs.  R.  called  me  to  her,  and  gave  me 
this  bill,  arid  she  told  me  to  tell  my  young 
friend  that  she  meant  to  do  just  as  Miss  C.  had 
done  —  that  she  bought  the  quilt  to  encourage 
us,  because  we  had  been  so  persevering." 


62  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 

"And  who  bought  it  next?"  asked  Louise, 
smiling. 

"  Mother,"  replied  Agnes.  "  Just  as  I  was 
coming  over  to  tell  you,  she  came  into  my  room, 
and  told  me  she  was  going  to  buy  it,  that  I 
might  always  remember  how  happy  it  had  made 
me  to  spend  my  time  usefully  and  charitably." 

Louise  ran  down  stairs  with  Agnes  to  tell  her 
mother  of  their  success,  and  to  beg  of  her  some 
bits  of  silk,  that  they  might  be  all  ready  to 
commence  their  "  invisibles "  at  noon.  Little 
Sarah  could  cover  the  pasteboards  very  neatly, 
having  been  taught  by  her  aunt,  and  was  very 
happy  in  being  permitted  to  help  her  sister. 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  the  three  little 
girls  made  four  pincushions,  though,  to  be  sure, 
they  were  not  entirely  "  invisible ;  "  and  it  would 
have  been  quite  a  pity  if  they  had  been  so  — 
made  as  they  were  of  bits  of  Mrs.  Merton's 
brown  silk  pelisse,  and  stuck  full  of  pins  sup- 
plied from  her  work  basket. 

Two  of  these  Agnes  took  home,  and  the  oth- 


LITTLE   FOLKS    ENCOURAGED.  63 

era  were  purchased  by  a  lady  and  gentleman 
who  were  visiting  at  Dr.  Morton's,  and  who  had 
become  much  interested  in  the  proceedings  of 
the  little  society.  The  lady  paid  twelve  and  a 
half  cents,  the  price  of  the  pincushion,  and  then 
presented  Louise  fifty  cents,  to  show  her  interest 
in  the  object;  and  the  gentleman,  when  he  paid 
for  his,  told  her  he  was  in  need  of  a  watch 
chain,  and  if  she  would  make  one,  he  would 
call  and  take  it  the  following  week,  when  he 
should  pass  through  the  town.  He  then  gave 
her  money  to  buy  the  materials,  and  told  her 
he  would  pay  her  half  a  dollar  when  the  chain 
was  completed. 

Louise  then  counted  her  money  : 

Pay  for  quilt, $8  50 

"      "     pincushions,  ...          50 
Presented, 50 


$9  50 

and  to  her  great  delight  found  that  when  the 
chain  was  made,  and  paid  for,  the  whole  sum 
would  be  obtained. 


64  TRYING  TO    BE    USEFUL. 

Dr.  Merton  said  he  thought  the  United  States 
Sewing  Society  was  in  a  very  flourishing  condition, 
and  promised  that  he  would  go  to  the  village 
after  dinner  and  order  the  cloak,  and  also  huy 
the  braid  for  the  chain. 

The  day  at  length  arrived  when  the  long- 
hoped-for  garment  was  to  be  completed.  The 
chain  was  finished  and  paid  for  ;  the  ten  dol- 
lars were  all  ready  to  pay  the  bill,  as  soon  as 
presented  ;  the  presentation  card  had  long  been 
written  by  Louise  in  her  best  hand,  — 

A?   Siieade    acceM   tn 


The  old  coat  had  previously  been  sent  home,  and, 
as  Mr.  S.  said,  "  would  do  good  service  yet." 
Every  thing  happened  right.  The  good  man  held 
a  meeting  in  a  little  school  house  one  evening 
in  a  week.  The  cloak  came  just  after  he  had 
gone,  and  the  girls  had  ample  time  to  examine 
it.  Louise  begged  her  father  to  try  it  on,  that 
they  might  see  how  it  fitted;  and  they  walked 


LITTLE    FOLKS    ENCOURAGED.  65 

around  and  around  him,  more  pleased  than  those 
can  imagine  who  know  not  the  pleasure  of  giv- 
ing what  they  have  earned  by  self-denying  labor. 
They  realized  the  truth  of  the  divine  words,  "  It 
is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive." 

A  string  was  passed  through  the  card,  and 
tied  to  the  large  eye  which  confined  the  cloak 
in  front.  They  then  carried  it  in  triumph  to 
the  chamber  occupied  by  Mr.  S.,  and  arranged 
it  upon  the  bed,  so  that  he  might  discover  it 
as  soon  as  he  entered  the  room.  A  few  mo- 
ments were  spent  in  wondering  what  he  would 
say,  and  hoping  he  would  not  find  out  who 
gave  it  to  him,  and  then  they  retired  to  bed  — 
Agnes  having  permission  to  pass  the  night  with 
her  friend. 

The  room  in  which  .they  slept  was  adjoining 
that  occupied  by  Mr.  S.,  and  the  children  hoped 
they  should  be  awake  when  he  returned.  Nor 
were  they  disappointed,  for  they  had  just  said 
their  prayers,  and  gone  to  bed,  when  they  heard 
the  outer  door  open  and  shut.  His  voice  was 
5 


66  TRYING   TO   BE    USEFUL. 

heard  asking  Nancy  for  a  light,  who  could  hardly 
refrain  from  giving  him  a  hint  of  what  was  go- 
ing on.  Then  he  was  on  his  way'  to  his  room, 
and  the  listeners  almost  held  their  hreath  lest 
they  should  lose  one  sound.  They  heard  him 
set  down  the  lamp,  open  the  closet  door,  hang 
up  his  coat  and  hat,  throw  in  his  boots,  and 
then,  with  his  slippers,  walk  across  the  room  to 
his  bed,  as  if  he  had  just  seen  the  cloak. 

"  Who's  here  ?  "  said  he  aloud  ;  then,  as  if 
he  had  just  discovered  the  card,  "  Ah  !  what's 
this  ?  "  reading,  — 

<^r.     Jiiea^e    accefa   t 


"  That  will   I  ;    with  many  thanks  to   the   friend 
who  presented  it  in  so  delicate  a  manner." 

Louise  and  Agnes  had  involuntarily  started  up 
in  bed  to  hear  more  distinctly,  and  now  they 
thought  he  was  trying  it  on,  for  he  walked  to 
the  part  of  the  room  where  the  glass  hung,  and 
said,  "A  nice  cloak  it  is  too!"  and  then  went 


LITTLE   FOLKS    ENCOURAGED.  67 

down  to  the  parlor  to  exhibit  his  present  — 
which,  of  course,  was  duly  admired,  as  if  they 
had  never  seen  it  before. 

Our  young  friends  were  just  composing  them- 
selves to  sleep,  when  the  voice  of  prayer  awak- 
ened their  attention.  It  was  the  good  man, 
pouring  out  his  whole  soul  in  gratitude  to  God 
for  this  fresh  token  of  his  love.  "  O  thou  be- 
neficent Being,  who  art  ever  mindful  of  the 
wants  of  thy  creatures,  and  who  dost  not  allow 
a  sparrow  to  fall  to  the  ground  without  thy 
notice,  be  pleased  to  accept  the  humble  and 
hearty  thanks  of  thy  servant  before  thee  for  this 
fresh  experience  of  thy  goodness.  The  hearts 
of  all  men  are  in  thy  hands,  and  are  turned  by 
thee  to  work  out  thy  purposes.  I  thank  thee 
that  thou  dost  move  thy  people  to  administer 
aid  to  the  needy,  thus  bearing  one  another's 
burdens,  and  so  fulfilling  the  law  of  Christ ; 
and  especially  that  thou  hast  looked  with  tender 
mercy  upon  the  necessities  of  thy  servant,  and 
hast  graciously  inclined  the  benevolent  to  relieve 


68  TRYING   TO    BE   USEFUL. 

them.  Pour  out  abundantly,  I  beseech  thee, 
spiritual  blessings  in  return  for  temporal  favors, 
that  they  may  realize  thy  promise,  '  He  that 
watereth  shall  be  watered  himself.'  Water  them 
richly  with  heavenly  dews,  and  prepare  them  for 
a  seat  at  thy  right  hand,  where  is  fulness  of 
joy,  and  pleasures  for  evermore." 

To  this  heart-felt  prayer  the  little  girls  listened 
in  breathless  silence,  interrupted  only  by  the  sobs 
of  Louise ;  and  it  was  not  until  some  time  after 
the  prayer  was  concluded  that  Agnes  could  suc- 
ceed in  any  measure  in  soothing  her. 

"  O,"  said  she,  trying  to  compose  herself  to 
speak,  "  what  a  blessing  to  have  such  a  man 
pray  for  us!  I  feel  that  God  will  answer  such 
a  prayer.  Let  us  pray  again,  dear  Agnes,  that 
we  may  indeed  be  fitted  for  that  blest  abode." 
They  clasped  their  hands,  while  Louise  implored 
anew  the  favor  of  God  for  the  sake  of  his  Son 
Jesus  Christ ;  after  which  they  fell  quietly  asleep. 

The  next  day  Mr.  S.  certainly  looked  very 
much  pleased,  as  he  met  the  little  girls  on  their 


LITTLE   FOLKS    ENCOURAGED  69 

way  home  from  school.  It  was  very  cold,  and 
as  he  approached  them,  he  folded  the  cloak 
closely  around  him,  as  if  to  say,  "  See  what  a 
warm  cloak  I  have,  and  how  comfortable  I  am 
in  it." 

After  he  had  passed,  Louise  stopped  and  looked 
around,  and  as  she  did  so,  saw  that  he  also  had 
stopped,  while  a  smile  of  such  peculiar  meaning 
played  around  his  mouth,  that  the  poor  girl  was 
covered  with  blushes,  at  the  thought  that  he  had 
by  some  means  become  possessed  of  their  secret. 

It  was  not,  however,  until  after  the  lapse  of 
some  years,  that  our  heroines  were  sure  that  they 
had  been  discovered  as  the  donors,  when  a  letter 
was  received  from  Mr.  S.,  dated  Constantino- 
ple, containing  a  message  to  his  generous  little 
friends,  that  the  garment  furnished  by  them  had 
been  his  constant  companion  since  he  left  America, 
being  his  cloak  by  day  and  his  blanket  by  night. 


70  TRYING   TO   BE   USEFUL. 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE     S1EIGH     HIDE. 

The  Young  Collegian's  Return.  —  A  Chat  by  the  Fireside.  — 
Christmas.  —  Remembering  the  Poor. 

CHKISXMAS  and  New  Year  were  at  hand. 
William  was  about  to  return  home,  for  a  long 
vacation.  Louise  and  Sarah  were  anticipating  a 
fine  time,  riding  and  walking  with  their  dear 
brother,  hearing  his  pleasant  stories,  and  receiv- 
ing aid  in  their  studies. 

Louise  had  been  knitting  a  pair  of  socks,  and 
Sarah  had  made  him  a  pincushion,  which  were 
intended  for  Christmas  gifts. 

On  Monday,  the  week  before  Christmas,  Dr. 
Merton  received  a  letter  from  his  son,  informing 
him  that  the  term  closed  on  Wednesday,  and  he 
should  probably  be  able  to  reach  home  on  Friday 
afternoon.  Louise  and  her  sister  had  prepared 


THE    SLEIGH   RIDE.  71 

cards  to  hang  around  their  necks,  and  had  just 
put  them  on  when  the  stage  coach  was  heard ; 
and  in  another  minute  William  was  in  his 
mother's  arms,  while  father  and  sisters  stood 
eager  to  welcome  him  home,  and  to  give  him 
the  warm  kisses  of  sisterly  affection. 

"  O,  how  cheerful  and  pleasant  this  is ! "  said 
William,  entering  the  parlor,  and  approaching 
the  bright,  blazing  fire,  which  diffused  a  genial 
warmth  through  the  room.  "  I  have  felt  nothing 
so  comfortable  since  I  left  '  home,  sweet  home ' ! 
But  how  you  have  grown,  Louise !  and  you  too, 
'  sis.'  "  Then,  for  the  first  time,  noticing  the 
cards  of  welcome,  he  thanked  each  by  a  silent 

kiss.      Had   he  spoken,  he  would  have  betrayed 

• 

his  emotion  at  so  delicate  a  mark  of  affection; 
and  to  have  done  so  would  have  been,  in  his 
estimation,  quite  beneath  a  Junior  in  College. 

Supper  was  ready.  Mr.  S.  came  in,  and  was 
introduced  to  the  newly-arrived  and  dearly-be- 
loved member  of  the  family.  Behold  them  now 
seated  at  the  table ;  Mrs.  Merton  opposite  the 


72  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

urn ;  William  occupying  a  place  between  his 
sisters,  they  having  in  a  low  voice  begged  this 
privilege  of  their  mother. 

The  devoted  father  besought  a  blessing  upon 
their  food,  after  which  William  did  full  justice 
to  the  nice  home-made  bread  and  butter,  the 
preserved  damsons,  which  he  said  he  should 
recognize  as  his  mother's  in  any  quarter  of  the 
globe,  and  last,  but  not  least,  the  Washington 
pie,  made  in  honor  of  his  expected  arrival,  to 
which  he  took  care  to  pay  great  respect,  while 
Louise  laughingly  said,  "  William  has  not  for- 
gotten his  favorite  pie." 

At  last  supper  was  concluded.  Nancy  took 
away  the  urn,  while  Sarah  passed  the  Bible  to 
her  father,  and  all  put  themselves  in  a  reverent 
posture  for  prayers. 

William  felt  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion. 
There  was  nothing  formal  connected  with  it. 
Dr.  Merton  read  a  portion  of  Scripture,  after 
which  he  gave  thanks  for  mercies  received,  and 
supplicated  the  continued  favor  of  God.  .Nor 


THE    SLEIGH   RIDE.  73 

did  he  forget  to  notice  the  kind  Providence 
which  had  restored,  their  absent  son  to  his  home 
in  health  and  prosperity  ;  and  earnestly  prayed 
that  the  season  of  his  continuing  among  them 
might  be  one  of  profit  to  his  soul. 

"Now  stir  the  fire,  and  close  the  shutters  fast, 
Let  fall  the  curtains,  wheel  the  sofa  round," 

said  William,  as,  after  a  short  pause,  his  father 
began  to  put  together  the  brands  which  had 
fallen  upon  the  hearth,  "  and  let  us  have  a 
social  chat  of  neighbors  and  friends." 

He  then  inquired  of  his  sisters  about  the 
Lovells,  the  Fullers,  &c.,  &c.,  which  inquiries 
were  soon  answered,  as  it  was  a  quiet  village, 
and  little  change  had  taken  place. 

But  there  were  some  items  of  intelligence 
communicated  by  Mrs.  Merton  which  interested 
him  deeply.  "  Old  Colonel  Brown  "  was  dead, 
having  been  eager  to  the  last  to  relate  the  story, 
that  he  had  fought,  bled,  and  died  on  Bunker 
Hill !  Sally  had  gone  to  live  with  her  grand- 
mother, and  to  take  care  of  her. 


74  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

"  I  musl  go  and  see  her,"  said  William.  "  I 
wonder  if  she'll  know  me." 

"  O,  yes,"  replied  Louise ;  "  she  says  she 
misses  you  very  much."  And  then  ^a  plan  was 
proposed  that  Mrs.  Merton,  William,  and  the 
two  girls  should  go  and  take  tea  with  the  old 
lady,  they  of  course  carrying  all  the  provision 
with  them. 

Dr.  Merton,  who  had  been  called  away,  now 
returned,  and  the  remainder  of  the  evening  was 
spent  in  conversing  in  regard  to  college  life  and 
college  duties. 

Day  after  day  passed  in  the  same  delightful 
interchange  of  kindness  and  affection. 

It  was  Christmas.  The  weather  was  clear 
and  cold,  but  the  sun  was  shining  pleasantly, 
making  the  icy  trees  and  bushes  glitter  as  if 
hung  with  jewels. 

The  sleighs  were  seen  flying  in  every  direc- 
tion, and  the  bells,  making  merry  music,  seemed 
to  invite  our  little  friends  to  a  sleigh  ride.  At 
least  so  they  thought,  as  they  stood  at  the 


THE    SLEIGH  EIDE.  75 

window  watching  their  brother,  who  4hrew  shovel 
after  shovel  full  of  snow  from  the  path  he  was 
making  to  the  gate. 

Soon  after,  Dr.  Merton  entered  the  room, 
followed  by  William.  They  were  talking  of  a 
poor  woman  who  lived  in  a  remote  part  of  the 
village,  and  who  had  lost  her  husband  a  few 
weeks  previous. 

Dr.  Merton  wished  William  to  carry  her  a 
basket  of  provision,  and  said,  "  I  suppose  your 
sisters  will  not  object  to  accompanying  you, 
judging  from  their  eager  countenances." 

"  Well,  girls,"  said  William,  laughing,  "  may  I 
have  the  pleasure  of  your  company  in  a  sleigh 
ride  ? " 

"  O,  that  is  just  what  we  should  like,"  cried 
they. 

"Go  and  get  ready,  then;  but  be  sure  to 
wrap  up  warm.  I  don't  like  to  have  little  girls 
crying  with  cold  fingers,"  continued  he,  looking 
mischievously  at  Sarah,  who  showed  by  her 
blushes  that  she  understood  to  what  he  alluded. 


76  TBYING   TO   BE    USEFUL. 

"  May  Agnes  and  Lucy  go  with  us  ?  "  earnest- 
ly cried  Louise,  running  back  into  the  room, 
with  her  pelisse  half  on. 

"Yes,  yes,  the  more  the  merrier,"  replied 
William,  good  humoredly ;  and  Louise  hurried 
away  to  have  her  friends  ready  when  her  brother 
called  for  them. 

"  Shall  we  go  the  upper  road,  or  the  lower  ? " 
asked  William. 

They  all  decided  that  the  lower  was  the 
pleasanter.  So  off  they  went  the  lower  road. 


THE  POOR  WIDOW.  77 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE     POOE     WIDOW. 

Her  Cottage.— Her  Presents.  —  Clothing  her  Twins.  — Another 
Charitable  Visit  to  her  House.  —  The  Namesake. — Dr. 
Merton's  Proposition.  —  Her  overpowering  Emotion. 

AFTER  a  fine  ride  of  half  an  hour,  they  stopped 
at  a  low  house,  or  rather  hovel,  —  for  it  hardly 
deserved  the  name  of  a  house,  —  with  a  piece  of 
funnel  projecting  through  the  roof  to  serve  the 
purpose  of  a  chimney.  Originally  there  had  been 
but  one  room;  but  as  they  entered  they  saw 
there  was  a  thin  board  partition  running  across, 
to  separate  the  sleeping  apartment  from  that 
which  contained  the  stove  and  other  utensils  for 
cooking. 

Mrs.  Snow  was  sitting  upon  the  side  of  a 
rickety  bed,  upon  which  lay  two  infants  which 
she  was  trying  to  soothe  to  sleep. 


78  TRYING   TO   BE   USEFUL. 

William  opened  the  door  for  the  little  girls, 
and  then  stepped  back  to  tie  his  horse.  The 
poor  •woman  put  forward  a  chair  and  a  stool, 
which  were  all  the  seats  the  apartment  afforded; 
but  the  children  were  too  eager  to  see  the  twins 
to  think  of  sitting;  and  sorrowful  as  was  Mrs. 
Snow,  she  could  hardly  help  smiling  with  moth- 
erly pride,  as  she  heard  their  abundant  words  of 
endearment. 

"  How  old  are  they  ?  "  asked  Louise,  turning 
to  Mrs.  Snow. 

"  Just  one  fortnight,  last  Tuesday,  miss,"  was 
the  sad  *eply ;  "  and  when  I  think  how  proud  he 
that's  gone  would  have  been  of  the  poor  little 
creatures," — here  a  burst  of  tears  interrupted 
her ;  and  while  she  was  still  weeping,  William 
came  in,  bringing  a  large  basket,  which  he  car- 
ried directly  through  into  the  back  room,  and 
commenced  taking  out  the  bundles  and  laying 
them  upon  the  table.  He  had  previously  been 
there  with  his  father,  and  had  become  much 
interested  in  the  afflicted  woman  and  her  father- 
less babes. 


THE   POOR    WIDOW.  79 

Mrs.  Snow  tried  to  shake  off  the  remembrance 
of  her  grief,  and  going  to  the  table,  seemed 
waiting  to  find  words  to  express  her  gratitude ; 
but  William  gave  her  no  time. 

Holding  out  a  bundle,  he  said,  "  This  is  oat- 
meal, to  be  made  into  gruel.  Mother  wants  you 
to  take  a  great  deal  of  it.  She  says  it  will  be 
very  nourishing  to  you  and  the  babes.  I  believe 
that  is  the  right  message,"  continued  he,  slightly 
blushing  at  what  he  had  said.  "  And  this  is 
rice.  That  little  bundle  is  tea,  which  father 
says  you  must  be  careful  not  to  take  strong  in 
the  present  state  of  your  nerves.  I  don't  re- 
member the  rest,"  continued  he,  interrupting 
her  again,  "but  you'll  find  them  out." 

"  O,"  said  Mrs.  Snow,  "  how  can  I  thank 
your  good  father  and  mother  for  all  they  have 
done  for  me  ?  " 

"  They  will  like  it  best  if  you  do  not  thank 
them  at  all.  But  how  are  the  babies  ?  " 

While  this  conversation  had  been  going  on, 
Louise  and  Agnes  had  each  ventured  to  take 


80  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

one  of  the  sleeping  infants,  and  now  looked  per- 
fectly happy,  as  they  sat  upon  the  bed  holding 
them  in  their  arms. 

"  There,"  said  William,  "  is  work  enough  for 
you,  Louise  !  Making  clothes  for  the  baby  would 
be  much  better  than  working  over  your  dolls." 

"  O,  yes,  yes,"  cried  Louise,  with  an  earnest 
look  at  Agnes,  "  so  we  will ! " 

Sarah  and  Lucy  begged  to  be  allowed  to  hold 
the  little  babies  just  one  minute,  to  which  Mrs. 
Snow  readily  consented,  after  many  injunctions 
from  Agnes  and  Louise  to  be  very,  very  careful. 

William,  having  told  Mrs.  Snow  she  must  take 
care  of  herself  for  the  sake  of  her  little  ones, 
knowing  that  to  be  the  most  powerful  motive 
he  could  use,  took  his  leave,  the  children  prom- 
ising "  to  come  again  very  soon." 

And  now  Louise  had  an  object,  and  she  could 
neither  think  nor  talk  of  any  thing  else.  The 
little  Society  was  again  to  be  put  in  operation ;  but 
as  the  case  was  urgent,  the  children  not  having 
suitable  clothing,  they  determined  to  devote  all 


THE   POOR    WIDOW.  81 

their  leisure,  through,  the  Christmas  holidays,  to 
making  a  complete  suit  for  each  of  these  needy 
babes. 

"  How  very  fortunate,"  said  Louise,  "  that  all 
my  Christmas  gifts  were  money.  Now  I  can  buy 
what  I  please.  O,  I  had  rather  have  money 
than  all  the  toys  in  the  world,  because  it  is  so 
useful.  But  which  do  you  choose,  the  little  boy 
or  girl  ?  " 

"  Why,"  replied  Agnes,  "  they  must  be  dressed 
alike,  now  they  are  small." 

When  they  reached  home,  Louise  could  not 
wait  to  hear  Sarah  relate  to  her  mother  what 
they  had  seen,  but  ran  hastily  to  her  room, 
where,  xin  an  upper  drawer  in  the  closet,  she 
remembered  to  have  seen  the  little  shirts  and 
dresses  which  had  been  made  for  Emily,  the 
heathen  child,  and  which  she  determined,  with 
her  mother's  permission,  to  give  to  Mrs.  Snow's 
baby.  In  her  haste  she  pulled  out  all  the  con- 
tents of  the  drawer,  throwing  them  upon  the 
floor,  and  was  beginning  to  feel  impatient  that 
6 


82  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

she  could  not  find  what  she  wished,  when  she 
discovered  dresses,  shirts,  and  caps,  rolled  in  a 
bundle,  just  as  she  had  left  them  years  "before. 
Mrs.  Merton  looked  much  astonished  as  Louise 
came  running  into  the  room,  with  her  arms  and 
apron  full  of  clothes. 

•*'  Mother,  are  these  my  own  B  May  I  do  what 
I  please  with  them?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  child,"  replied  Mrs.  Merton, 
smiling,  as  she  saw  the  treasure  so  earnestly 
besought.  "  They  are  yours ;  and  I  can  already 
imagine  to  what  use  you  have  appropriated  them. 
I  think,"  continued  she,  taking  up  a  little  dress, 
"  with  my  help  you  can  alter  this  so  that  it  will 
do  very  well  for  the  present  purpose  ;  but  I  see 
Sarah  wants  to  take  a  part  with  you." 

"  O,  yes,  mamma,"  cried  Sarah,  joyfully,  "  you 
know  that  I  can  sew  very  neatly,"  while  her 
countenance  brightened  at  the  idea  of  being 
useful  to  the  twin  babes. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  her  mother,  "  you 
shall  have  an  opportunity  to  do  your  part." 


THE    POOR   WIDOW.  83 

The  following  morning  Louise  and  her  sister 
were  sitting  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  with  a 
large  basket  on  the  floor  before  them,  containing 
the  various  articles  fitted  by  their  mother  the 
evening  previous,  when  Louise  suddenly  ex- 
claimed, "  I  will  ask  Mrs.  Snow  to  name  her 
Louise,  and  then  I  shall  feel  that  she  really 
belongs  to  me." 

Sarah  was  occupied  in  making  napkins,  ten  of 
which  her  mother  had  cut  from  an  old  linen 
sheet,  and  Louise  was  altering  a  little  pink 
frock,  to  suit  her  adopted  daughter,  as  she 
playfully  called  her  protegee. 

In  the  course  of  the  forenoon  Agnes  came  in, 
and  was  surprised  to  find  her  friends  had  already 
accomplished  so  much,  but  Louise  soon  explained 
to  her  that  most  of  the  garments  were  already 
made,  and  only  required  to  be  slightly  altered, 
but  seeing  Agnes  looked  disappointed,  she  said, 

"  When  these  are  ready,  I  will  ask  leave  of 
mother  to  go  and  help  you.  Perhaps  J.can  stay 
all  night,  and  then  we  can  sew  a  g  !^»t  deal  im 
the  evening." 


84  TRYING   TO    BE   USEFUL. 

This  promise  was  fulfilled,  and  the  obliging 
little  girl  helped  her  friend  alter  and  repair, 
until  they  prepared  quite  a  tidy  wardrobe  for 
young  Master  Snow.  O,  how  happy  they  were, 
as  they  started,  each  with  a  basket  upon  her 
arm,  for  the  poor  hovel  !  No  visit  to  a  palace 
could  have  afforded  them  such  pure  enjoyment. 

Dr.  Merton  was  going  in  the  sleigh  to  a  house 
a  short  distance  from  Mrs.  Snow's,  when  the 
little  girls  were  to  get  out  and  walk  on,  the 
doctor  promising  to  call  for  them  when  he  had 
concluded  his  business.  Our  heroines  found  the 
poor  woman  much  stronger  than  at  their  last 
visit,' though  she  still  seemed  sad,  very  sad;  but 
as  they  unfolded  the  contents  of  their  baskets, 
they  were  richly  repaid  for  all  they  had  done, 
by  the  look  of  grateful  joy  with  which  she  re- 
garded them. 

For  one  moment  she  struggled  hard  to  sup- 
press her  feelings,  and  then  said  in  a  subdued 
voice,  "  God  has  not  forgotten  the  widow  and 
the  fatherless." 


THE   POOR    WIDOW.  85 

"  No,"  replied  Louise,  "  the  Bible  says  he. 
will  never  forsake  those  who  put  their  trust  in 
him ;  and  I  know,  if  you  pray  to  him,  he  will 
take  care  of  you  and  the  dear  babes." 

"  O,"  said  the  bereaved  woman,  weeping 
aloud,  "  you  speak  just  like  my  poor  Joseph, 
that's  dead  and  gone.  He  often,  very  often,  said 
to  me,  when  I  was  worrying  about  this  or  the 
other,  and  not  knowing  where  we  should  get 
our  next  meal,  '  My  dear  Betsy,'  —  and  he'd 
speak  it  so  pretty,  miss,  — '  why  can't  you  trust 
in  God  ?  We  have  never  yet  wanted  food, 
though  we  have  often  eaten  our  last  morsel ! ' 
O  !  if  he  could  have  been  spared  to  me  !  "  and 
overcome  by  her  recollections  of  the  past,  she 
burst  into  a  passionate  flood  of  tears. 

The  girls  were  much  affected.  Louise  silent- 
ly took  the  babe,  while  Agnes  folded  up  the 
little  clothes,  and  laid  them  neatly  upon  the 
set  of  drawers  which  stood  at  the  foot  of  the 
bed. 

After  a  few  minutes  Mrs.  Snow  became    more 


86  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

composed,  and   listened    to    the   conversation  be- 
tween the  friends. 

"  I  think,"  said  Louise,  "  that  my  baby  is  the 
prettier ;  "  then  looking  up,  she  asked,  "  What 
is  this  baby's  name  ?  " 

"  Well,  miss,  I  have  not  thought  much  about 
a  name  for  the  poor  little  girl  yet,  but  I  shall 
call  the  boy  Joseph,  for  his  father,"  and  she 
sighed  heavily. 

"  I  should  like,"  continued  Louise,  feeling  that 
she  was  asking  a  great  favor,  "  to  have  you  call 
her  Louise  Merton." 

"  Indeed,  miss,  and  would  you  be  willing  to 
have  the  poor  little  thing  called  by  your  name  ?  " 

"  O,  yes,"  replied  Louise,  her  countenance 
showing  that  she  should  not  only  be  willing, 
but  very  glad. 

"  Then,"  continued  Mrs.  Snow,  "  if  your 
mother  consents,  that  shall  be  her  name." 

The  young  girl  pressed  her  protegee  close  in 
her  arms,  as  if  she  felt  that  she  had  acquired  a 
new  right  to  her,  which  the  mother  noticed,  and 


THE    POOR   WIDOW.  87 

inwardly  thanked  God  for  raising  up  such  kind 
friends  for  her  babes. 

Agnes  was  not  less  interested  in  the  little 
Joseph,  and  resolved,  with  her  mother's  consent, 
to  adopt  him,  as  Louise  had  done  the  girl. 

Just  then  Dr.  Merton's  sleigh  bells  were  heard, 
and  in  a  minute  he  entered  the  room,  bringing 
a  bag  of  meal.  He  inquired  tenderly  if  she  was 
at  present  in  need  of  any  thing,  and  then  tell- 
ing Louise  and  Agnes  he  had  a  plan  he  knew 
would  please  them,  stood  folding  the  bag,  which 
Mrs.  Snow  had  emptied. 

"  Did  you  know  that  Mrs.  Phipps's  daughter 
was  about  to  be  married  ? "  asked  he  of  the  poor 
woman,  after  a  short  pause. 

"  I  didn't  know  she  thought  o'f  it  at  present." 

"  Yes,  she  intends  to  leave  home  in  about  a 
fortnight ;  that  is,  if  she  can  make  any  satisfac- 
tory arrangements  for  her  mother.  You  know 
the  old  lady  is  very  feeble,  and  requires  kind 
care  and  attention,"  continued  the  doctor,  after 
waiting  a  moment  for  her  to  reply ;  "  and .  she 


88  TRYING   TO   BE   USEFUL 

sent  for  me  to  see  if  I  could  think  of  any  one 
who  would  come  and  take  her  daughter's 
place." 

Mrs.  Snow  clasped  her  hands  with  a  quick, 
convulsive  motion,  but  said  nothing. 

"  I  told  her  that  I  could  think  of  just  such 
a  one  as  would  suit  her,  but  there  was  one 
serious  objection  to  it." 

Here  the  poor  woman  leaned  back  against  the 
wall,  and  sighed  heavily. 

"  Or,  rather,"  added  he,  smiling,  "  I  feared 
she  might  consider  it  as  such  —  that  the  one  I 
should  earnestly  recommend,  had  a  pair  of  beau- 
tiful twins  a  month  old." 

''*  O,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Snow,  "  what  did  she 
say?"  while  the  tears  started  from  her  eyes. 

"That  it  would  be  no  objection  at  all,  if  they 
had  a  good  mother ;  and  as  I  soon  satisfied  her 
on  that  ground,  we  are  only  waiting  for  your 
consent  to  conclude  the  bargain." 

Dr.  Merton  had  endeavored  to  impart  this 
good  news  \rith  due  caution,  but  he  was  not 


"  There  she  sat  silently,  clasping  her  hands,  her  countenance  growing 
every  moment  more  and  more  pale."    See  p.  89. 


THE    POOR  WIDOW.  89 

prepared  for  such  an  excess  of  emotion  as  fol- 
lowed his  last  words  :  indeed,  one  could  hardly 
be  expected  to  anticipate  it  who  had  never  been 
teduced  to  such  utter  destitution. 

There  she  sat,  silently  clasping  her  hands,  her 
countenance  growing  every  moment  more  and 
more  pale,  until  the  doctor,  seeing  she  was  about 
to  faint,  suddenly  started,  and  saved  her  from 
falling  to  the  floor,  telling  Louise  to  run  for  some 
water.  A  few  drops  sprinkled  in  her  face  re- 
vived her,  and  she  burst  into  tears. 

As  soon  as  she  could  speak,  she  said,  with 
great  solemnity,  "  I  never  mean  to  doubt  again." 

"  To  doubt  what,  my  good  woman  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  mean,"  continued  she,  "  I  never 
mean  to  doubt  that  God  will  take  care  of  me, 
and  these  babes  he  has  intrusted  to  my  care. 
O,  how  miserable  I  have  been  at  the  thought 
of  being  obliged  to  be  separated  from  them  that 
I  might  work  for  their  support ;  but  now  —  O, 
how  sinful  I  have  been  to  doubt  his  goodness  !  " 

"Trust  in  God  always,"  said   the  doctor,  try- 


90  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

ing  to  suppress  his  emotion.  "  He  will  never 
forsake  those  that  put  their  trust  in  him." 

"  Come,  girls,"  said  he,  after  a  short  pause, 
"  you  must  give  up  your  babies.  I  am  not  at 
all  sure,  Mrs.  Snow,  but  when  you  get  into  our 
neighborhood,  you'll  have  more  help  than  you'll 
care  about." 

Louise  thanked  her  father,  by  a  look  of  duti- 
ful aifection,  as  she  said,  "  This  is  really  my 
baby,  father ;  its  name  is  Louise  Merton." 

"  If  your  mother  is  willing,"  explained  Mrs. 
Snow,  fearing  it  might  be  thought  she  had  taken 
too  great  a  liberty.  .  $•; 

The  father  smiled  his  approbation,  and  they 
took  their  leave,  the  doctor  promising  to  bring 
Mary  Phipps  to  see  her  in  a  day  or  two,  that 
they  might  talk  over  and  conclude  the  arrange- 
ment. 

To  those  interested  in  the  future  history  of 
Mrs.  Snow,  I  will  just  say,  that  in  due  time 
she  removed  to  the  neat  cottage  occupied  by  the 
old  lady  Phipps;  where,  by  her  neatness,  ac- 


THE  POOR    WIDOW.  91 

tivity,  and,  above  all,  her  devoted  piety,  (for 
she  came  out  of  the  furnace  of  affliction  refined 
and  purified,)  she  gained  many  warm  friends  for 
herself  and  children.  Mrs.  Phipps  often  thanked 
God  for  having  provided  so  kindly  for  her  in 
her  old  age;  and,  indeed,  it  was  hard  to  say 
which  she  most  loved,  her  own  grandchildren, 
or  the  little  twins  brought  up  under  her  roof. 

Louise  and  Agnes  never  lost  their  interest  in 
their  protegees,  but  did  much  toward  clothing 
and  educating  them. 


92  TBYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

FAST     FOR     COLLEGES. 

Interest  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Merton  in  the  Occasion.  —  The  Public 
Meeting.  —  The  welcome  Letter.  —  The  Promise  fulfilled. 

THE  vacation  had  passed,  and  William  had 
left  his  pleasant  home  to  resume  his  studies. 

The  departure  of  a  member  of  his  family  was 
always,  with  Dr.  Mertpn,  a  solemn  event.  He 
never  approved  any  trifling  or  merriment,  when, 
for  aught  they  knew,  they  might  be  taking  their 
last  farewell. 

"  Always  part,  my  dear  children,"  he  said, 
"  so  that  if  in  God's  providence  you  are  never 
allowed  to  meet  again,  the  parting  scene  may  not 
be  a  source  of  painful  reflection." 

So,  when  an  absent  member  returned  to  the 
parental  roof,  his  joy  was  chastened  by  the 
thought  of  God's  preserving  goodness. 


FAST   FOB   COLLEGES.  93 

It  was  now  the  third  week  in  February.  No- 
tice had  been  given  from  the  pulpit,  on  the  pre- 
ceding Sabbath,  of  the  fast  for  colleges.  There 
were  to  be  meetings  for  prayer  at  two  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  and  at  seven  in  the  evening. 

To  Dr.  Merton  this  was  a  day  of  peculiar 
interest.  ,  The  conversion  of  educated  young  men, 
who  were  soon  to  come  forward  into  active  life, 
and  to  exert  an  extended  influence  upon  their 
country  either  for  weal  or  woe,  could  not  be 
regarded  with  indifference  by  a  mind  like  his. 
He  viewed  them  as  an  important  part  of  the 
machinery  of  God's  providence  for  the  evangeliza- 
tion and  salvation  of  the  world.  And  now  that 
he  had  a  beloved  son  exposed  to  all  the  dan- 
gers and  temptations  of  a  college  life,  it  is  rea- 
sonable to  suppose  that  his  prayers  would  be 
more  fervent,  and  that  he  would  seek  more  ear- 
nestly the  grace  of  God,  that  mighty  shield,  to 
be  about  them  on  every  side  to  protect  them 
from  the  fiery  darts  of  the  adversary  ;  and  that 
he  would  also  implant  in  their  hearts  such  a 


94:  TRYING   TO   BE    USEFUL. 

zeal  for  God,  and  for  the  advancement  of  his 
kingdom,  that  in  due  time  they  might  take  their 
places  lipon  the  stage  of  life,  thoroughly  fur- 
nished for  every  good  work.  It  was  the  custom 
in  this  eminently  Christian  family,  not  only  to 
devote  the  services  of  morning  and  evening 
worship  to  this  object,  hut  to  observe  a  special 
season  in  the  middle  of  the  day. 

On  the  present  occasion,  all  were  deeply  af- 
fected by  the  unction  and  fervor  of  the  good 
man,  as  he  wrestled  for  the  soul  of  his  absent 
son.  His  language  seemed  to  be  like  that  of 
Jacob  of  old,  "  I  will  not  let  thee  go  except 
thou  bless  me." 

Louise  sobbed  aloud,  while  none  were  able 
entirely  to  restrain  their  emotion ;  but  as  they 
rose  from  prayer,  their  tears  were  dried.  The 
countenance  of  the  venerable  father  actually  shone 
with  holy  joy.  Every  feature  expressed  an  as- 
surance of  the  blessing  so  long  and  so  earnestly 
sought. 

Deeply  impressed  with  the  importance   of  the 


FAST   FOB    COLLEGES.  95 

day  with  regard  to  their  beloved  William,  these 
Christian  parents  devoted  the  entire  morning  to 
wrestling,  fervent  prayer  in  his  behalf. 

Louise  had  wandered  about,  looking  in  vain 
for  her  mother,  until  she  approached  the  closet 
rendered  sacred  by  hallowed  associations.  There 
she  stopped  and  listened.  She  heard  her  mother 
praying  for  him  who  had  so  recently  departed, 
that  God  would  be  merciful  to  his  soul,  while 
her  voice  was  often  interrupted  with  weeping,  so 
that  she  was  unable  for  a  time  to  proceed. 

Louise  remembered  how  often  she  had  knelt 
by  the  side  of  her  dear,  dear  mother,  and,  with 
hands  clasped  in  hers,  had  been  dedicated  to 
God,  and  divine  favor  implored  for  her.  She 
listened  until  she  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and 
then  retired  to  her  room,  and  wept  ^rfoud. 

But  now  the  good  man,  whose  closet  had  also 
witnessed  the  fervor  of  his  prayers,  felt  that  he 
was  heard  and  answered ;  and  when,  in  the  after- 
noon meeting  he  made  some  remarks,  which  he 
followed  by  prayer,  there  was  not  one  present 


96  TRYING   TO    BE   USEFUL. 

who  did  not  feel  his  or  her  faith  strengthened 
in  the  promises  of  God  to  his  waiting  people. 

The  following  Tuesday,  as  Dr.  Merton  went 
out  after  breakfast,  he  requested  Louise  to  call 
at  the  post  office,  on  her  return  from  school,  as 
he  should  be  engaged  until  dinner. 

He  returned,  however,  sooner  than  he  expected, 
and  was  reading,  by  the  window,  when  he  saw 
his  little  girls  running  home,  Louise  holding 
Sarah  by  the  hand,  and  trying  to  hurry  her 
along.  The  cause  of  all  this  haste  was  soon 
apparent,  for  as  she  saw  her  father  at  the  win- 
dow, she  waved  her  arm,  to  show  that  she  had 
a  letter  for  him,  and  soon  opened  the  door, 
shouting,  "A  letter  from  William!  a  letter  from 
William  !  " 

The  family  were  nearly  all  present  as  Dr. 
Merton  took  the  letter,  broke  the  seal,  opened 
it,  read  a  few  words,  and  then  burst  into  tears, 
and  immediately  retired  to  his  study.  He  must 
for  a  time  be  alone  with  God. 

Great  anxiety  was   depicted  upon  the   counte- 


FAST   FOR    COLLEGES.  97 

nances  of  all ;  but  soon  the  study  door  was 
heard  opening,  when  Mrs.  Merton  stepped 
quickly  forward,  and  it  was  again  closed.  Not 
a  word  was  spoken  by  those  who  remained,  and 
soon  the  voice  of  praise  was  heard  —  praise  for 
the  salvation  brought  to  their  household! 

The  dinner  bell  rang,  and  the  joyful  parents 
took  their  seats  at  the  table ;  but  they  seemed 
to  forget  that  their  food  was  before  them.  The 
good  doctor  took  from  his  pocket  the  precious 
letter,  and  attempted  to  read  it  to  his  assembled 
family,  but  was  soon  so  much  overcome  by 
gratitude  and  joy,  as  to  be  unable  to  proceed, 
and  he  silently  handed  the  letter  to  Mr.  S.  to 
be  finished. 

An  extract  from  this  letter  I  am  allowed  to 
copy.  It  was  as  follows  :  — 

"BELOVED  PAKENTS: 

"  I  have  found  my  Saviour ;  I  have  found 
him-  to  be  precious.  He  has  redeemed  my  soul 
from  hell.  He  has  bought  me  with  his  own 
7 


98  TBTING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 

precious  blood.  He  is  mine,  and  I  am  his.  O, 
how  can  it  be  that  I  have  lived  eighteen  years, 
and  have  never  known,  never  prized  him  till 
now  ?  But  I  shall  dwell  with  him  forever. 
Eternity  will  be  too  short  to  utter  all  his  praise. 
My  life,  my  all,  shall  be  devoted  to  his  service. 
#  #  *  *  you  win  doubtless  wish  to  know 
when  I  found  this  pearl  of  great  price.  Thurs- 
day morning,  at  college  prayers,  our  good  presi- 
dent made  a  few  remarks  upon  the  manner  in 
which  we  should  spend  the  day,  and  hoped  we 
should  remember  that  many  Christians  in  all 
parts  of  the  United  States  were  engaged  in 
prayer  for  us. 

"  With,  alas !  too  many,  this  had  no  effect ; 
and  as  there  were  no  recitations,  little  parties  of 
pleasure  were  projected  to  pass  away  the  time. 
In  several  of  these  I  was  urged  to  unite  ;  but  I 
had  no  desire  for  pleasure.  I  wished  to  be 
alone ;  and  as  this  could  not  easily  be  accom- 
plished in  my  room,  where  the  company  of  my 
roommate  was  passing  in  and  out,  I  took  my 


FAST   FOR    COLLEGES.  99 

hat,  and  went  to  a  grove  near  the  college 
buildings.  I  could  not  shake  off  the  idea  that 
my  parents  were  praying  for  me ;  for  me,  who 
felt  no  disposition  to  pray  for  myself.  I  walked 
back  and  forth,  feeling  more  and  more  unhappy 
every  moment.  At  length  a  loud  laugh  from  a 
company  of  students  approaching,  determined  me 
also  to  seek  for  pleasure,  to  drown  my  misery ; 
for  miserable,  indeed,  I  was  —  a  wretch  without 
hope  of  mercy.  I  turned  to  follow  them,  when 
an  inward  voice  said  to  my  soul,  '  Grieve  not 
the  Holy  Spirit.'  My  anguish  was  greater  than 
ever,  and  in  my  folly  I  wished  that  I  had  been 
a  poor  outcast  — ~  a  heathen  —  any  thing  rather 
than  what  I  was  —  a  hardened  child  of  many 
prayers.  I  had  heard  from  my  infancy  the 
story  of  a  Saviour's  love,  but  I  had  never  felt 
that  I  had  any  part  in  it,  or  that  it  particularly 
concerned  me.  Now,  now  for  the  first  time,  the 
idea  of  the  Son  of  God  dying  on  the  cross  — 

taking    my   sins  —  relieving   me    of   this    terrible 

• 
load,  and  giving  me  a  hope  of  escaping  from  the 


100  TKYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

condemnation  I  deserved  for  my  sins,  filled  me 
with  joy.  The  fall  of  man,  the  whole  system  of 
redemption,  came  up  before  my  mind,  as  if  I 
had  never  heard  it  before,  and  I  was  saved  from 
despair  only  by  having  been  so  thoroughly 
taught  from  my  childhood  the  distinguishing  doc- 
trines of  the  Bible.  Alone  —  upon  the  ground  — 
I  fell  upon  my  knees.  I  gave  up  all  hope  of 
saving  myself,  or  paying  for  salvation  by  good 
works.  I  was  rejoiced  that  I  could  do  nothing, 
that  all  the  glory  of  my  salvation  was  my  Re- 
deemer's. I  cried  aloud  in  my  agony  that  un- 
less he  would  plead  for  me  —  intercede  for  the 
pardon  of  my  sins  —  I  must  perish.  But  O,  how 
can  I  describe  the  peace  and  joy  which  filled 
my  soul !  Jesus,  my  Saviour,  appeared  so  lovely ; 
the  thought  of  heaven,  as  where  I  might  see 
Jesus,  and  with  tens  of  thousands  redeemed  like 
me  from  the  thraldom  of  sin,  was  indescribably 
sweet.  I  wandered  for  hours  through  the  grove. 
My  whole  life  seemed  wasted ;  precious  time 
destroyed  that  might  have  been  spent  in  adoring 


FAST   FOR   COLLEGES.  101 

the  Redeemer.  At  length,  wearied  and  faint  in 
body,  I  returned  to  my  room,  and  found,  to  my 
astonishment,  that  it  was  near  four  o'clock,  the 
time  appointed  for  public  exercises,  which  I  need 
not  say  was  a  precious  season  to  my  soul. 

"  I  will  only  add  that  I  have  commenced  a  let- 
ter to  my  dear  little  sisters,  dearer  far  than  be- 
fore, because  they  have  souls  with  which  to  love 
the  Saviour.  I  shall  probably  send  it  next 
week.  I  pray  daily  for  them,  that  they  may 
not  waste  the  precious  season  of  childhood  and 
youth  as  I  have  done,  but  enter  Wisdom's  ways, 
which  are  '  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  her 
paths  are  peace.' 

Your  dutiful  son, 

WILLIAM." 

In  connection  with  this  account  of  William's 
conversion,  I  shall  add  a  few  words  of  his 
after  life.  He  never  ceased  to  give  thanks  to 
God  for  his  undeserved,  unspeakable  mercy ;  and 
his  desires  were  ardent  that  all  might  realize 


102  TEYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 

the  same  blessing  so  abundantly  bestowed  upon 
him. 

He  felt,  as  he  told  one  of  his  professors,  an 
earnest  desire  for  the  souls  of  his  classmates  and 
unconverted  friends,  that  they  might,  with  him, 
swell  louder  and  louder  the  anthem  of  the  re- 
deemed in  heaven. 

After  a  suitable  preparation,  he  entered  the 
gospel  ministry,  which  he  felt  to  be  the  most 
exalted  station  a  mortal  can  attain;  and  he  en- 
tered upon  his  work  with  the  same  zeal  that 
had  previously  animated  his  soul. 

After  several  years  of  labor  in  one  of  the 
Northern  States,  he  was  obliged,  owing  to  the 
state  of  his  lungs,  to  remove  to  the  south, 
where  he  continued  to  preach  for  a  time,  when 
his  voice  entirely  failed,  and  he  reluctantly  com- 
plied with  the  repeated  advice  of  his  physician, 
to  give  up  for  a  time  all  employment. 

After  a  few  months,  his  general  health  being 
much  improved,  though  unable  to  preach,  he 
engaged  in  the  arduous  duties  of  a  teacher  in 


FAST   FOR    COLLEGES.  103 

one  of  the  Southern  States,  where  he  has  been 
eminently  successful  for  many  years. 

How  much  encouragement  to  Christian  parents 
may  be  derived  from  the  history  of  "William ! 
"  Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go, 
and  when  he  is  old  he  will  not  depart  from 
it,"  is  the  promise  of  one  whose  word  cannot 
be  broken. 

In  childhood  sow  the  precious  seed,  water  it 
with  your  prayers  and  tears,  and  it  will  cer- 
tainly yield  an  abundant  harvest. 


104  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

THE     CHAKITY     S  C  H  O  O  Ii  . 

Spring.— The  Walk.— The  Benevolent  Design.— The  Young 
Teachers.  —  The  first  Session.  —  The  Happiness  of  useful 
Children.  —  The  Misery  of  Guilt. 

SPKING  had  come,  with,  all  its  wealth  of  en-, 
joyment.  Birds  and  flowers  —  the  balmy  air,  — 
the  budding  trees  —  the  violet  peeping  up  from 
its  bed  —  the  warbling  of  merry  songsters  re- 
turning with  joy  to  their  summer  home  — all 
proclaimed  that  spring  had  come. 

Our  young  friend  Louise  went  about  the  house 
singing,  — 

"  The  winter  is  over  and  gone, 

The  thrush  whistles  sweet  on  the  spray, 
The  turtle  breathes  forth  its  soft  moan, 
The  lark  mounts  and  warbles  away." 

When    she  went    to    school,    her    feet   seemed 
scarcely  to    touch   the    ground,    as    she   bounded 


THE    CHARITY    SCHOOL.  105 

across  the  green,  so  full  was  she  of  buoyant/ 
and  life.  And  yet  she  dearly  loved  the  winter 
The  cheerful  fireside,  the  social  circle,  the  pleas- 
ant sleigh  ride,  and  above  all,  the  long  winte* 
evening,  when  she  could  enjoy  the  society  of 
her  dear  mother,  sometimes  being  permitted  to 
read  to  her,  and  oftentimes  listening  to  her  in- 
structive conversation,  —  all  these  were  seasons 
to  be  fondly  remembered. 

But  children  always  love  the  spring.  They 
love  to  watch  the  busy  birds,  collecting  twigs 
with  which  to  weave  their  little  nests  ;  they  love7 
to  wander  over  the  fields  from  which  the  cover- 
ing of  the  snow  has  so  long  excluded  them,  and 
to  search  for  the  earliest  "  wild-wood  flowers  ; " 
they  loVe  to  form  their  plans  of  summer  sports 
and  enjoyments. 

One  pleasant  spring  morning,  Agnes  called  for 
Louise  to  take  a  walk  before  school ;  and  as  per- 
mission was  soon  obtained,  they  stood  at  the 
gate,  quite  undecided  which  way  to  direct  their 
steps. 


106  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

Louise  was  very  fond  of  having  an  object  in 
view.  She  always  enjoyed  a  walk  or  a  ride  far 
better  if  there  was  an  errand  to  be  done  for  her 
mother,  or  there  was  some  end  to  be  attained 
by  it.  Now  she  thought  it  would  be  very 
pleasant  to  call  at  a  small  cottage  owned  by 
her  father,  and  inquire  about  a  child  who  was 
sick.  So  they  wandered  along,  hand  in  hand, 
stopping  every  now  and  then  to  gather  a  violet 
from  the  bank,  and  talking  about  the  family 

%  '  * 

which   they  intended  to  call  upon. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Louise,  "  whether  she  will 
ever  be  able  to  go  to  school ? " 

"  She  looks  so  pale  and  thin,"  replied  her 
companion,  "  I  shouldn't  think  she  would  live  a 
great  while." 

"  But  father  thinks,"  responded  Louise,  "  that 
she  will  be  better,  now  it  is  warm  weather." 

"  Here  we  are  !  "  said  Agnes  ;  and  they,  entered 
a  small  gate,  and  saw  a  young  girl  trying  to  cut 
and  trim  the  rose  bushes,  which  had  grown  so 
much  the  last  season  as  nearly  to  close  the 


THE    CHAKITY   SCHOOL.  107 

narrow  walk  to  the  house.  During  the  winter 
these  had  been  tied  up,  but  now  it  was  neces- 
sary to  prune  them.  Louise  asked  Mary  (the 
name  of  the  girl)  if  she  had  any  old  hoops, 
and  then  explained  to  her  how  they  might 
easily  be  fitted  to  keep  the  bushes  straight  and 
firm,  and  when  painted  white,  or  green,  would 
add  much  to  their  beauty. 

She  then  followed  her  friend  into  the  cottage, 
the  front  of  which  was  almost  entirely  concealed 
by  the  woodbine,  which  had  been  trained  to  run 
up  to  the  roof. 

Lydia,  the  sick  girl,  sat  by  the  window, 
watching  her  sister  at  work  in  the  front  garden. 
She  seemed  very  grateful  to  the  young  girls  for 
calling  to  see  her,  and  they,  after  remaining  a 
few  minutes,  were  obliged  to  hurry  away  to  be 
in  time  for  school. 

Louise,  who  generally  was  very  talkative,  and 
sometimes  claimed  more  than  her  share  of  the 
conversation  when  alone  with  her  young  com- 
panions, now  answered  but  in  monosyllables, 


108  TRYING   TO    BE   USEFUL. 

and  once  replied  to  another  question  so  entirely 
different  from  what  had  been  asked,  that  Agnes 
laughed  aloud. 

But  Louise  was  absorbed  in  thought,  though 
her  plan  was  not  yet  definite  enough  for  her  to 
divulge,  and  she  saw  so  many  difficulties  in  the 
way  that  she  determined  to  think  more  about  it 
before  she  mentioned  it  to  any  one.  It  had, 
however,  gained  so  much  importance  in  her  eyes 
by  the  time  school  was  dismissed,  that  she  de- 
termined to  talk  it  over  with  Agnes.  The  plan 
was  this  —  to  keep  a'  little  school  an  hour  or 
two  on  Wednesday  and  Saturday  afternoons,  for 
the  benefit  of  poor  little  children,  whose  parents 
could  not  afford  to  send  them  to  a  day  school. 
There  was  then  no  school  -for  the  smaller  poor 
children,  except  one  kept  for  a  few  weeks  in 
the  year  at  the  expense  of  the  town. 

But  the  questions,  "  Will  our  parents  consent  ? 
where  shall  we  obtain  a  room  ?  and  where 
get  the  scholars  ? "  were  what  she  wished  Agnes 
to  help  her  to  solve. 


THE    CHARITY    SCHOOL.  109 

"  I  know  of  a  room,"  was  her  Mend's  reply, 
"  in  Woodbine  Cottage,  and  then  Lydia  can  at- 
tend." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Louise  ;  "  seeing  her,  first  made 
me  think  of  it." 

Consent  to  a  trial  of  their  skill  as  teachers  was 
readily  granted.  The  room  was  obtained,  and 
on  the  Wednesday  following  there  were  thirteen 
girls  and  boys  assembled,  including  Lydia,  who 
sat  in  her  rocking  chair  by  the  window,  enjoy- 
ing the  scene  vastly,  if  one  might  judge  from 
her  pale  but  happy  countenance. 

The  school  was  opened  by  the  children  re- 
peating in  unison  the  Lord's  prayer;  and  truly 
it  was  an  interesting  sight,  those  boys  and  girls, 
with  closed  eyes  and  folded  hands,  lisping  its 
simple  petitions. 

At  its  close,  Lydia,  who  had  joined  them 
while  sitting,  wiped  away  the  tears  which  had 
gathered  in  her  large,  expressive  eyes,  and  seemed 
to  enter  with  much  interest  into  the  plan  pro- 
posed by  the  young  teachers.  The  children  were 


110  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

soon  divided  into  classes  —  were  heard  to  read 
and  spell  —  a  Bible  story  was  told  them  by 
Louise,  and  then  a  short  time  was  spent  in 
singing,  in  which  they  might  be  said  to  unite 
with  the  spirit,  though  not  entirely  with  the  un- 
derstanding, after  which  the  school  was  dismissed 
until  Saturday  afternoon. 

As  the  young  teachers  went  home,  they  un- 
consciously walked  with  more  dignity  than  usual, 
being  deeply  impressed  with  the  responsibilities  of 
their  new  situation ;  while  they  felt  richly  repaid 
for  all  their  exertion  in  collecting  a  school  (they 
having  been  around  and  obtained  the  glad  con- 
sent of  the  parents)  by  seeing  how  much  happi- 
ness they  had  conferred. 

"  Didn't  we  have  a  nice  time  ? "  said  one  of 
the  little  boys  to  his  playfellow  as  they  passed, 
when  suddenly  seeing  his  teachers  close  at  hand, 
he  stopped,  and  blushed,  as  if  he  had  been  guilty 
of  a  misdemeanor. 

When  Louise  reached   home,  she   found  Sarah 


THE    CHARITY    SCHOOL.  Ill 

weeping  bitterly ;  and  when  her  sister  tried  to 
soothe  her,  she  gently  pushed  her  away,  saying, 
"I  have  told  a  lie  —  I  have  told  a  lie!" 

Louise  was  very  sorry  for  her,  and  could 
hardly  keep  from  weeping  herself,  as  she  thought 
that  she,  too,  had  in  times  past  often  told  that 
which  was  not  exactly  true.  She  took  Sarah 
kindly  by  the  hand,  and  said,  "  O  sister  !  how 
could  you  do  so  ? "  when  Mrs.  Merton  entered, 
and  led  the  offending  child  to  her  room. 

When  left  alone,  Louise  called  to  mind  the 
last  time  she  had  told  a  lie.  It  was  when  she 
was  eight  years  of  age.  How  well  she  could 
remember  every  circumstance  connected  with  it! 
She  had  had  a  fine  apple  given  her,  which  her 
father  expressly  forbade  her  to  eat,  as  she  was 
not  well ;  but  when  he  had  gone  away  she  had 
told  Nancy  that  her  father  had  given  her  per- 
mission to  eat  it,  after  she  had  learned  her  les- 
son. The  girl,  not  having  heard  any  thing  to 
the  contrary,  gave  it  to  her  ;  ai\d  when  in  the 
evening  she  was  quite  feverish,  her  father  asked 


112  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

if  she  had  eaten  the  apple,  she  was  frightened, 
and  denied  that  she  had  done  so.  She  soon 
grew  so  much  worse,  further  inquiry  was  made 
as  to  her  diet,  and  Nancy  revealed  the  fact  of 
her  having  eaten  the  apple. 

Her  good,  kind  father  was  cut  to  the  heart 
at  the  sin  of  his  little  daughter ;  and  as  he  had 
detected  her  several  times  in  equivocating,  though 
never  before  in  an  actual  untruth,  he  determined 
to  treat  it  with  the  seriousness  so  great  an  offence 
required. 

A  few  days  after,  when  she  had  recovered,  no 
notice  having  been  taken  of  her  fault,  Louise 
thought  it  had  all  passed  by,  when,  after  dinner, 
she  was  summoned  to  her  father  in  the  study. 
He  did  not  look  up  as  she  entered,  but  was 
sitting  in  his  arm  chair,  his  eyes  being  shaded 
by  his  hand. 

Louise  went  silently  and  took  a  seat  upon 
the  low  cricket  placed  at  his  side.  For  some 
minutes  she  sat  thus,  and  well  could  she  recol- 
lect the  feelings  of  sorrow  and  shame  which 


THE  CHARITY  SCHOOL.         113 

almost  overpowered  her,  when  her  dear,  kind 
father  took  her  hand  in  his,  and  calmly  talked 
with  her  of  the  nature  of  the  sin  she  had 
committed,  and  then,  taking  a  Bible  from  the 
table  near  him,  read  to  her,  as  she  stood 
before  him,  passage  after  passage  of  Holy  Writ 
proclaiming  God's  righteous  displeasure  against 
those  who  depart  from  the  truth,  and  the  cer- 
tainty of  the  endless  punishment  of  all  liars. 

Taking  his  pen  he  wrote  down  the  places 
where  she  would  find  these  texts  in  her  own 
Bible,  after  which  they  knelt  side  by  side,  while 
the  afflicted  father  earnestly  implored  pardon  for 
the  offence  of  his  weeping,  guilty  child. 

How  solemn  had  been  her  resolutions  during 
that  prayer!  how  sincere  her  desires  for  help 
from  above  to  conquer  the  sinful  habit,  and  to 
become  a  truthful  child  !  Vividly  was  the  scene 
present  before  her.  When  they  arose  from  prayer, 
her  father  repeated  a  part  of  what  he  had  before 
said,  and  then  expressed  a  strong  hope  that  this 
would  be  the  last  offence  of  the  kind;  but 
8 


114  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 

he  added,  that  however  painful  it  might  be,  it 
would  become  his  duty,  in  case  she  should  be 
guilty  of  the  like  again,  to  administer  chastise- 
ment. Louise  then  took  the  paper  and  went 
to  her  room  to  commit  the  "  texts "  to  memory, 
she  having  been  forbidden  to  leave  it,  except  to 
go  to  school,  until  called  to  tea. 

From  that  time  she  could  not  remember  that 
she  had  wilfully  deceived,  although,  a  few  days 
after  the  events  related,  she  had  a  very  strong 
temptation  to  do  so ;  but  she  had  been  enabled 
by  divine  grace  to  obtain  a  victory  over  herself. 
The  joy  she  saw  experienced  by  her  parents 
deepened  the  powerful  impression  already  pro- 
duced, so  that  for  many  years  she  had  been 
regarded  by  all  her  friends  as  a  truth-loving 
child. 

When  Sarah  appeared  at  supper  with  swollen 
eyes  and  flushed  cheeks,  her  sister  regarded  her 
with  feelings  of  great  tenderness,  mingled  with 
sorrow.  She  knew  that  Sarah  had  humbly  con- 
fessed her  fault  and  had  been  forgiven  by  her 


THE   CHARITY   SCHOOL.  115 

parents,  while  they  had  implored  divine  forgive- 
ness. Louise  determined  to  afford  all  the  aid 
in  her  power  to  help  her  overcome  so  great  a 
fault. 


116  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

•    /  .  . 

VISIT     TO     THE     BEACH. 

Louise's  Project.  —  Her  Letter. — Her  Conquest  of  Herself.—1 
Her  Father's  Decision.  —  Preparation.  —  The  Party.  —  The 
Ride.  —  Her  Impression  from  the  Sea.  —  The  Return. 

IT  was  June.  The  little  school  was  in  a  pros- 
perous condition ;  far  more  so  than  the  most 
sanguine  of  its  friends  had  dared  to  expect.  It 
now  numbered  twenty  scholars,  which  was  as 
many  as  the  room  would  accommodate.  Lydia 
had  nearly  recovered,  and  was  quite  an  assist- 
ance to  her  young  teachers.  Her  character  had 
grown  mature  by  her  long  sickness  and  confine- 
ment to  the  society  of  older  persons ;  so  that 
by  her  good  example,  and  eagerness  to  learn, 
she  much  diminished  the  labor  of  discipline  in 
the  school. 

As  vacation  in  the  day  school  was  now  ap- 
proaching, our  little  friends  were  beginning  to 


VISIT   TO   THE   BEACH.  117 

plan  walks  and  rides,  to  be  submitted  to  their 
parents  for  approval. 

Louise  bad  long  felt  a  desire  to  visit  tbe  beacb, 
and  look  out  upon  tbe  migbty  expanse  of  water, 
bounded  only  by  tbe  horizon.  This  was  twenty 
miles  distant ;  and  indulgent  .  as  she  knew  her 
parents  to  be,  she  hardly  expected  they  would 
approve  of  the  project  she  had  in  view. 

Her  desire  was  to  invite  all  her  young  com- 
panions and  friends  to  go  with  her  to  the  beach, 
expecting,  of  course,  that  their  parents  would 
accompany  them.  The  more  difficult  of  attain- 
ment, the  more  delightful  the  pleasure  appeared 
to  her ;  and  at  length,  after  lying  awake  several 
nights,  and  talking  it  over  with  Sarah  in  all  its 
bearings,  they  resolved  to  draw  up  a  petition  to 
their  father  and  mother,  requesting  their  consent 
and  sanction  to  the  plan. 

This  was  carried  into  efiect  the  next  day. 
Louise,  after  repeated  trials,  composed  one  which 
they  thought  would  answer  very  well,  and  was 
as  follows :  — 


118  TRYING  TO  BE  USEFUL. 

"  VERY  DEAR  AND  INDULGENT  PARENTS  : 

"We  know  that  you  like  to  please  your  chil- 
dren whenever  you  can,  and  it  is  proper;  and 
so  we  have  ventured  to  tell  you  our  plan.  We 
wish  to  invite  all  our  little  companions  and 
friends  to  go  with  us  to  the  beach,  and  spend 
the  day  among  the  rocks,  and  try  to  fish.  If 
you  think  proper  to  gratify  us  in  this,  we  shall 
be  very,  very  happy,  and  shall  try  to  show  our 
gratitude  by  strict  obedience  to  all  your  com- 
mands ;  but  if  you  do  not,  we  shall  try  to  feel 
that  it  is  all  right,  because  we  know  that  you 
love  your  children,  and  would  consent  if  you 
could. 

"  Your  affectionate  children, 

LOUISE  MERTON, 
SARAH  E.  MERTON." 

This  letter  was  laid  upon  their  father's  study 
table,  and  the  girls  walked  about  on  tiptoe,  as 
if  fearful  of  disturbing  him  while  reading  it. 
Every  time  the  door  opened,  they  expected  he 


VISIT   TO   THE   BEACH.  119 

would  come  in  and  give  them  his  answer;  but 
when  hour  after  hour  passed  away,  and  not  a 
word  was  said  upon  the  subject  which  wholly 
engrossed  their  thoughts,  they  felt  sadly  disap- 
pointed. 

At  last,  Louise  stole  softly  into  the  study, 
when  her  father  was  out,  to  see  if  her  note  had 
not  been  overlooked.  It  had  been  taken  from 
the  conspicuous  situation  in  which  she  placed 
it,  and  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

Dr.  Merton  seemed  not  to  notice  the  eager, 
anxious  looks  of  his  little  daughters  at  the  tea 
table,  but  talked  on  the  most  indifferent  sub- 
jects, while  Louise  and  Sarah,  who  had  no  ap- 
petite, wondered  at  his  taking  tea  with  such 
evident  relish. 

Bed  time  came,  and  not  a  word  had  been  said 
concerning  the  subject  of  their  letter,  and  when 
Louise  retired  to  her  room  she  burst  into  tears. 
Nor  did  she  try  at  all  to  restrain  herself.  She 
felt  that  she  had  been  treated  unkindly,  and 
hard  thoughts  of  her  parents  began  to  arise. 


120         -TRYING  TO  BE  USEFUL. 

After  weeping  a  long  time,  Louise,  as  usual, 
knelt  to  pray,  and  had  just  commenced  her 
prayer,  when  the  thought  of  the  wicked  feel- 
ings she  had  cherished  toward  her  kind,  indul- 
gent parents,  flashed  upon  her  mind,  and  she 
started  from  her  knees,  saying  aloud,  "  I  can't 
pray.  O,  how  naughty  I  have  been !  I  don't 
-dare  to  pray."  Her  tears  flowed  afresh,  but 
this  time  she  wept  for  sorrow  on  account  of  her 
sin,  and  soon  she  knelt,  with  a  penitent  heart, 
to  pray  for  pardon. 

Dr.  Merton,  who  had  read  the  note  with  great 
interest,  on  account  of  the  dutiful  spirit  breathed 
in  its  lines,  had  shown  it  to  their  mother,  and 
had  at  once  determined,  if  practicable,  to  comply 
with  their  request.  He  had  been  as  much  en- 
grossed in  it  as  they  could  desire,  but  he  did 
not  wish  to  raise  hopes  to  disappoint  them;  so 
he  thought  best  to  say  nothing  about  it  until 
he  had  ascertained  from  his  neighbors,  Mr. 
Lovell  and  Mr.  Fuller,  whether  they  would 
cooperate  in  the  proposed  visit.  And  now,  en- 


VISIT   TO   THE   BEACH.  121 

tirely  ignorant  of  the  conflict  going  on  in  the 
mind  of  his  dear  Louise,  he  had  gone  out  for 
the  purpose  of  calling  upon  them  with  reference 
to  the  ride  to  the  beach. 

The  parents  gave  their  hearty  consent,  and 
were  glad  of  so  good  an  opportunity  to  reward 
their  children  for  their  generally  good  conduct. 
And  now  came  the  bustle  of  preparation. 
"Miracles1'  were  to  be  fried,  hams  and  tongues 
boiled,  bread  and  cake  baked,  sandwiches  pre- 
pared, while  the  gentlemen  had  quite  their  part, 
in  preparing  carriages  to  transport  so  many, 
there  being  no  stable  at  hand. 

Dr.  Merton  had  two  horses,  a  carryall,  sulky, 
and  wagon  ;  Mr.  Lovell,  one  horse,  a  cha^e,  and 
wagon ;  Mr.  Fuller,  a  horse  and  chaise.  These 
carriages  were  all  that  would  be  necessary,  and 
the  requisite  number  of  horses  were  hired  from 
the  neighbors. 

They  were  to  start  at  five  in  the  morning, 
that  they  might  have  a  long  day  before  them  — 
to  carry  their  dinner  to  eat  upon  the  rocks,  in 


122  TRYING   TO  BE   USEFUL. 

full    view  of   the  ocean  —  to   go    out   in   a   boat 
and  fish.  —  and  to  return   in  the  evening.      This 

was  the  plan. 

• 

Louise  and  her  sister  were  so  full  of  joy  they 
could  not  compose  themselves  to  sleep,  though 
feeling  the  necessity  of  it,  as  they  were  to  rise 
so  early  in  the  morning.  Nancy,  the  faithful 
Nancy,  had.  been  made  very  happy  by  an  invita- 
tion from  Mrs.  Merton  to  accompany  them. 

The  confusion  of  fitting  one  child  here  and 
another  there,  of  changing  for  a  smaller  one, 
of  packing  the  numerous  baskets  containing  the 
provision  into  the  wagons,  and  of  giving  the 
children  their  papers  of  luncheon,  was  at  last 
over,  and  they  were  fairly  started  for  the  beach. 

I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  various 
little  adventures  they  met  with  by  the  way  — 
the  fright  of  the  children  as  Mr.  Lovell  drove 
into  the  water,  and  the  waves  dashed  against 
the  carriage  —  the  delight  shown  at  their  safe 
arrival,  and  at  being  allowed  to  get  out  and 
look  around  them. 


VISIT   TO    THE    BEACH  123 

Louise  stood  upon  the  beach  speechless  with 
ecstasy.  With  one  hand  half  raised,  and  mouth 
open  to  inhale  the  refreshing  breeze,  she  gazed 
with  wonder  and  awe  upon  the  scene  before  her. 
Not  knowing  or  caring  that  her  companions 
were  wandering  far  away,  she  still  looked,  un- 
able to  turn  her  eyes  from  the  glorious  expanse 
of  water,  dashing  and  foaming  against  the  rock- 
bound  coast,  and  then  gently  breaking  into 
waves  at  her  feet. 

Dr.  Merton,  who  had  missed  her,  approached 
without  her  being  conscious  that  any  one  was 
near ;  and  when  he  called  her  by  name,  she 
started  suddenly,  as  if  frightened,  so  entirely 
had  she  been  absorbed  in  her  own  feelings. 

Her  father,  seeing  the  deep  impression  made 
upon  her  mind  by  the  scene  before  her,  repeated 
the  following  sublime  passages  from  Scripture : 
"  Who  hath  measured  the  waters  in  the  hollow 
of  his  hand,  and  meted  out  heaven  with  the 
span,  and  comprehended  the  dust  of  the  earth 
in  a  measure,  and  weighed  the  mountains  in 


124  TKYIXG   TO    BE   USEFUL. 

scales,  and  the  hills  in  a  balance  ?  It  is  he  that 
sitteth  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth,  that  stretch- 
eth  out  the  heavens  as  a  curtain,  and  spreadeth 
them  out  as  a  tent  to  dwell  in.  Lift  up  your 
eyes  on  high,  and  behold  who  hath  created 
these  things."  (Isaiah  xl.) 

"  All  these,  my  daughter,  are  the  mighty 
works  of  God.  How  wonderful  his  condescen- 
sion in  allowing  us  to  call  him  our  heavenly 
Father !  "  Louise  put  her  hand  in  his,  and  they 
walked  on  in  silence.  Her  mind  was  overwrought 
with  the  excitement  of  the  scene,  with  the  noise 
of  many  waters,  and  it  would  have  been  a  re- 
lief to  her  to  have  wept.  Her  father  well  un- 
derstood her  feelings,  and  he  turned  her  atten- 
tion by  saying,  suddenly,  "Your  mother  will 
fear  some  accident  has  happened  to  you."  And 
they  quickened  their  pace  until  they  joined  the 
rest  of  their  company. 

Through  the  day,  though  Louise  was,  as  she 
told  her  mother,  very,  very  happy,  yet  she  ap- 
peared thoughtful.  She  seemed  to  shrink  from 


VISIT   TO   THE   BEACH.  125 

the  merry  laugh  of  her  companions,  and  to  pre- 
fer being  with  her  parents  or  entirely  alone. 

Dr.  Merton  led  the  children,  one  by  one,  to 
the  top  of  a  very  high  rock  projecting  over  the 
sea;  there,,, planting  his  foot  firmly,  he  held 
them  forward,  that  they  might  look  over,  and 
see  the  foaming  and  dashing  of  the  waves  against 
its  base.  He  told  them  that,  in  a  gale  of  wind, 
the  waves  would  dash,  over  and  cover  the  tops 
of  the  high  rocks,  and  would  appear  awfully 
grand  and  terrific. 

The  little  girls  shuddered  as  they  looked,  and 
all  but  Louise  felt  relieved  to  be  lifted  from  the 
rocks ;  she  felt  as  if  she  would  be  glad  to  stand 
and  gaze  forever. 

At  five  o'clock  they  started  for  home,  which 
they  reached  about  nine,  when  our  young  trav- 
ellers were  glad  to  retire  to  rest,  after  thanking 
their  parents  again  and  again  for  giving  them  so 
much  pleasure. 


126  TRYING   TO   BE   USEFUL. 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE     HAPPY     CHANGE. 

Resolutions  of  Louise  and  Agnes.  — Parental  Fidelity.  — Mental 
Conflict.  —  Sweet  Submission.  —  The  two  Sisters  one  in 
Christian  Love. 

Two  years  had  passed  since  the  events  re- 
lated in  the  last  chapter.  Louise  and  Agnes 
were  now  fourteen  years  of  age,  and  were  quite 
tall  and  womanly  in  their  appearance. 

Sarah  was  twelve,  and  was  now  a  very  pleas- 
ing, conscientious  little  girl.  Between  Louise 
and  her  sister  there  was  the  closest  intimacy 
and  affection,  and  the  remark  was  often  made 
that  they  were  seldom  seen  separated.  This  was 
very  delightful  to  their  parents,  who  had  always 
taken  pains  that  their  interests  should  not  he  at 
variance.  Indeed,  Dr.  Merton  used  to  say,  "  If 
there  is  any  one  thing  I  dote  upon,  it  is  that 
my  children  love  one  another." 


THE   HAPPY    CHANGE.  127 

Nothing  of  special  moment  had  occurred  in 
their  quiet  village ;  but  now  all  were  looking 
forward  with  interest,  and  many  with  anxiety,  to 
a  series  of  religious  meetings  to  be  held  among 
them. 

Several  distinguished  ministers  were  expected 
to  be  present,  and  it  was  hoped  that  much  good 
might  result,  although  Dr.  Merton  never  fully 
approved  of  protracted  meetings,  nor  of  many  of 
the  measures  adopted  in  them. 

There  had  been,  for  several  weeks,  pleasing 
indications  that  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  was 
among  them,  enlivening  the  hearts  of  Christians, 
and  quickening  them  to  renewed  watchfulness 
and  prayer  for  the  souls  of  the  impenitent  around 
them.  Two  or  three,  it  was  hoped,  had  already 
been  turned  from  sin  to  holiness,  and  many 
more  were  anxiously  inquiring,  "  What  shall  I 
do  to  be  saved  ?  " 

Louise  and  Agnes  were  sitting  together,  one 
afternoon,  in  the  chamber  of  the  former,  who  had 
been  rather  out  of  health  for  a  few  weeks,  when 


128  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

she  suddenly  looked  up  from  her  work,  and 
said,  "  Agnes,  is  it  not  time  for  us  to  become 
Christians  ? " 

Agnes'  lip  quivered,  as  she  replied,  "  Yes,  I 
have  thought  much  of  it  of  late,  and  I  mean  to 
do  so  at  the  meetings." 

Louise  secretly  made  the  same  resolution, 
though  not  without  compunction  for  putting  off 
what  ought  to  be  done  without  delay. 

The  meetings  commenced  on  Tuesday  morn- 
ing, and  about  half  an  hour  before  the  time, 
Agnes  called  for  Louise,  who  exhibited  a  great 
reluctance  to  attend,  and  at  length  made  her 
health  an  excuse  for  remaining  at  home. 

Agnes,  however,  was  in  earnest  in  her  desire 
to  go,  though  she  confessed  to  Louise  that  she 
did  not  feel  as  deeply  as  she  had  done. 

When  our  young  friend  was  left  alone,  she 
was  by  turns  sorry  and  glad  that  she  had  not 
accompanied  her  companion.  She  could  not  un- 
derstand her  own  feelings.  For  weeks  she  had 
been  inwardly  mourning  over  her  sins,  and  had 


THE   HAPPY   CHANGE.  129 

been  so  much  distressed  at  the  view  she  had 
had  of  herself  as  a  guilty  sinner  before  God, 
that  she  dreaded  to  hear  any  more  upon  the 
subject. 

Again  and  again  she  determined  to  become  a 
Christian  when  she  should  be  older.  But  the 
gracious  spirit  still  contined  to  knock,  saying, 
"  Open  unto  me."  Terrible  was  the  conflict  in 
her  soul ;  but  at  length  she  resolved  to  leave 
the  subject  for  that  day,  and  soon  after  took  a 
book,  and  became  quite  calm. 

O,  how  dangerous  was  her  condition !  Thou- 
sands, situated  as  she  then  was,  have  been  left 
by  the  Spirit  FOREVER. 

For  two  days  she  manifested  little  or  no  con- 
cern for  herself,  and  had  often  remained  alone  in 
the  house,  while  all  were  in  church. 

Sarah  was  deeply  affected,  and  had  many 
serious  conversations  with  her  parents,  while  on 
their  part  the  jnost  intense  anxiety  was  felt  for 
their  daughters. 

On  Thursday  morning,  Dr.  Merton  requested 
9 


130  TBTING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

Louise  to  accompany  him  to  his  study,  where  he 
tenderly,  but  faithfully,  talked  with  her  about 
the  concerns  of  her  immortal  soul,  the  danger  of 
delaying  repentance,  and  the  great  joy  it  would 
give  her  parents  to  see  her  choosing  God  for 
her  everlasting  portion. 

Louise  was  so  much  agitated  that  she  heard 
but  a  small  part  of  what  her  father  said.  She 
felt  that  she  had  grieved  the  Spirit  again  and 
again,  and  that  if  she  did  not  now  listen  to  his 
pleading  voice,  he  would  take  his  everlasting 
flight,  and  heaven  would  be  lost  to  her  forever. 

Her  father  asked  if  he  should  pray  for  her,  to 
which  she  nodded  assent,  as  she  dared  not  trust 
herself  to  speak.  It  now  seemed  as  if  he  had 
known  all  her  secret  thoughts  and  feelings,  so 
entirely  did  he  lay  open  her  heart  before  God ;  and 
she  shuddered  at  the  view  of  her  sinful  neglect 
of  a  Saviour's  love.  Dr.  Merton  then  proposed 
to  her  to  attend  the  meeting  that  morning  with 
her  mother ;  and  she  retired  to  her  room. 

The   sermon  was   from  Prov.  xiii.  15:     "The 


THE    HAPPY   CHANGE.  131 

way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard."  It  was  an 
able  one,  and  Louise,  as  she  wept,  acknowledged 
its  truth  as  far  as  regarded  herself. 

At  the"  close  of  the  sermon,  the  hymn  was 
sung,v  beginning  with  these  words  :  — 

"  Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds 
Our  hearts  in  Christian  love ; " 

when  all  those  who  could  join  in  the  spirit  of 
the  hymn  were  requested  to  rise  and  sing. 

As  Mrs.  Merton,  who  sat  by  her  daughter, 
arose,  Louise  instinctively  caught  hold  of  her 
mother,  as  if  she  felt  that  the  final  separation 
was  about  to  take  place ;  then,  releasing  her 
hold,  she  sobbed  aloud.  When  the  meeting  was 
closed,  Louise  tried  to  restrain  her  tears,  and 
walked  in  silence  by  her  mother,  Sarah  being 
allowed  to  spend  the  intermission  with  a  friend, 
as  the  place  where  the  meetings  were  attended 
was  a  mile  from  the  house  of  Dr.  Merton. 

On  reaching  home,  our  young  friend  went  im- 
mediately to  her  room,  begging  her  mother  to 


132  TRYING   TO    BE   USEFUL. 

excuse  her  from  dinner.  And  never,  till  time 
shall  end,  will  the  events  of  these  few  hours  be 
forgotten. 

She  entered  her  closet,  and  throwing  herself 
upon  her  knees,  she  begged  for  pardon,  if  par- 
don there  could  be  for  one  so  guilty.  To  her, 
God  appeared  as  a  consuming  fire.  She  had  so 
long  refused  to  obey,  had  slighted  so  many  of- 
fers of  mercy,  that  she  felt  *it  was  right  she 
should  be  punished ;  but,  O,  to  be  shut  out  of 
heaven,  to  be  separated  forever  from  God,  and 
from  those  she  loved,  was  more  than  her  soul 
could  endure.  Her  mother  knocked  gently  at 
the  door,  and  anxiously  asked  if  she  would  not 
Like  to  have  her  father  pray  for  her,  then  con- 
ducting her  to  the  study,  told  him  of  her 
desire. 

Dr.  Merton  directed  them  with  his  hand  into 
the  next  room,  and  said,  with  an  agitated  voice, 
that  he  would  be  with  them  directly. 

Louise  had  hardly  shut  the  door  before  she 
heard  her  father  weep  aloud,  and  as  she  stood 


THE  HAPPY   CHANGE.  133 

fastened  to  the  spot,  she  could  hear  his  broken 
petitions  for  her.  "  O, "  thought  she,  "  can 
there  be  hope  for  me?"  For  the  first  time  a 
ray  of  light  darted  into  her  soul. 

The  good  man  soon  joined  them,  and  taking 
the  hand  of_  Louise,  he  asked  if  she  could  give 
herself  up  to  the  Saviour. 

"  O,  "  said  she,  "  I  am  so  wicked !  " 

"That  is  the  very  reason  why  you  should  do 
so,"  he  tenderly  replied.  "  Christ  died  for  the 
wicked  —  not  for  the  righteous.  If  you  had 
never  sinned,  he  could  never  have  redeemed 
you  ;  but  now  he  offers  to  bear  all  your  sins,  to 
receive  you  just  as  you  are,  if  you  will  give 
yourself  to  him.  You  have  been  feeling  that  on 
account  of  your  sins,  there  was  no  hope  for  you. 
Christ  came  ta  save  those  who  were  lost ;  lost 
to  holiness  and  heaven,  forever  LOST  without  re- 
deeming grace." 

The  idea  of  a  free  salvation,  without  money 
and  without  price,  seemed  new  to  her,  though 
she  had  often  heard  of  it  before;  and  as  her 


134  TRYING   TO    BE   USEFUL. 

father  once  more  entreated  the  Saviour  to  dis- 
close himself  to  her,  as  ready  and  willing  to  be 
gracious,  the  light  of  God's  countenance  dawned 
upon  her  soul,  and  where  wrath  had  frowned, 
now  mercy  smiled.  The  Saviour  had  relieved 
her  of  the  heavy  burden  of  sin,  and  O,  how 
lovely  did  he  appear !  There,  upon  her  knees, 
did  she  consecrate  herself  to  him  forever. 

"  Well  pleased,  the  Father  sees  and  heart 

The  conscious  sinner's  moan  — 
Jesus  receives  her  in  his  arms, 
And  claims  her  for  his  own. 

"  Not  angels  can  their  joys  contain, 

But  kindle  with  new  fire  — 
The  sinner  lost,  is  found,  they  sing, 
And  strike  the  sounding  lyre." 

When  Louise  arose,  she  threw  herself  into  her 
father's  arms,  who  embraced  her  tenderly.  Their 
emotions  were  too  deep  for  utterance  ;  and  when, 
after  he  had  read  a  few  verses  to  her,  she  spoke 
of  the  joy  and  peace  which  filled  her  soul,  he 
raised  his  heait  to  God  in  grateful  adoration 
and  praise. 


THE   HAPPY   CHANGE.  135 

It  was  now  time  for  the  afternoon  service. 
Louise  could  hardly  recognize  herself  as  the 
same  being  who  had  walked  over  that  ground  a 
few  hours  previous,  despair  rending  her  soul. 
Now,  as  she  passed  one  and  another,  she  could 
hardly  refrain  from  telling  them  "  what  a  Sa- 
viour she  had  found."  She  looked  anxiously  for 
Sarah,  to  whom  she  wished  to  impart  her  heav- 
enly joy. 

The  sermon  in  the  afternoon  was  upon  the 
preciousness  of  Christ  to  the  believer;  and  O, 
how  fervently  did  her  inmost  soul  respond  to 
every  word  the  speaker  uttered ! 

As  they  rode  home  with  their  father,'  Louise 
had  no  opportunity  to  see  Sarah  alone,  until 
they  retired  to  their  room  for  the  night. 
She  then,  full  of  affection  for  her  sister,  and  of 
intense  interest  for  the  welfare  of  her  soul,  put 
her  arms  affectionately  about  Sarah's  neck,  and 
kissing  her  tenderly,  told  her  how  happy  she 
felt  in  the  hope  that  her  Saviour  had  pardoned 
her  sins.  "  And  there  is  but  one  thing  necessary 


136  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

to  complete  my  happiness,  dear  sister,"  continued 
she,  "  and  that  is,  that 'you  too  may  share  with  me 
in  these  rich  blessings."  Then  seeing  the  color 
flush  Sarah's  cheek  as  she  was  about  to  speak, 
she  interrupted  her,  and  in  the  warmth  of  her 
feelings,  said  earnestly,  "  Do  try  it !  dear  sister 
—  do  try  it !  O,  how  sweet  to  be  at  peace  with 
him!" 

"  I  have,  Louise,"  replied  Sarah,  in  a  timid 
voice,  "  I  have  tried  it,  and  I  do  hope  that  I 
love  Jesus." 

Before  Sarah  had  concluded,  Louise  again 
embraced  her  tenderly,  while  angels  might  envy 
them  their  joy  as  they  talked  of  a  Saviour's 
dying  love. 


SABBATH   SCHOOL    CLASS.  137 


CHAPTER    XI. 

SABBATH   SCHOOL   CLASS. 

Louise's  Eesidence  with  her  Sister.  —  Her  Friend  Fanny. — 
Their  Teaching  in  the  Colored  Sabbath  School.  — Respect  of 
Miss  Morton's  Scholars  for  her.  — Marriage  of  one  of  them. 
—  Their  Gift  to  her  on  her  Return  Home.  —  Her  Profession 
of  Religion.  —  Her  Sister's  sudden  Death. 

IT  had  long  been  the  intention  of  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Merton  to  allow  Louise  to  spend  the 
winter  with  one  of  her  married  sisters,  residing 
in  a  large  town  beautifully  situated  on  the  banks 
of  the  Hudson  River.  There  was  an  academy  in 
the  place,  the  teachers  stood  high  in  public  es- 
teem, and  they  thought  it  would  be  a  great 
advantage  to  her  to  attend  upon  their  instruc- 
tions ;  but  as  the  time  approached  to  leave  her 
dear  home,  Louise  began  to  feel  a  sinking  of 
spirits,  and  earnestly  desired  her  parents  to 
postpone  her  visit  another  year. 


138  TKYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

This  request  they  felt  a  strong  inclination  to 
comply  with,  hut  as  a  letter  was  received  from 
her  sister,  urging  her  to  come  immediately,  and 
stating  that  in  a  late  revival  in  C.,  more  than 
two  thirds  of  the  congregation  had  given  evi- 
dence of  a  change  of  heart,  they  concluded  it 
was  not  advisable  to  alter  their  plan. 

I  will  not  attempt  a  description  of  the  parting 
of  Louise  from  her  beloved  parents,  her  dear, 
dear  sister,  united  to  her  by  ties  Stronger  than 
sisterly  affection ;  of  her  adieu  to  her  own 
Agnes,  as  she  lovingly  called  her;  the  farewell 
visit  to  schoolmates  and  friends  ;  or  her  last  walk 
through  the  grove,  where  she  had  so  often,  of 
late,  retired  for  communion  with  her  heavenly 
Father.  I  will  pass  on  to  say  that  she  arrived 
safely  in  C.,  was  cordially  received  by  her 
brother  and  sister,  and  there  introduced  to  a 
large  circle  of  young  friends,  whose  hearts  beat 
in  unison  with  hers  in  the  ardor  of  their  first 
love  to  the  Saviour.  How  delightful  was  their 
intercourse !  They  rarely  met  without  spending 


SABBATH  SCHOOL  CLASS.         139 

a  few  moments  in  social  prayer  and  praise. 
Louise  felt  a  strong  desire  to  be  useful  to  the 
multitude  of  poor  women  and  children  she  saw 
whenever  she  walked  the  streets.  She  remem- 
bered that  her  divine  Master  went  about  doing 
good,  and  she  longed  to  follow  his  example. 

In  one  of  her  new  friends  she  soon  found  a 
kindred  spirit.  Though  belonging  to  a  family 
of  great  wealth,  Fanny  Mills  was  a  humble 
Christian,  and  enjoyed  nothing  more  than  a  visit 
with  Louise  to  the  poor  and  afflicted.  As  they 
walked,  arm  in  arm,  talking  of  the  love  of 
Jesus,  they  were  in  turn  surprised  and  delighted 
to  find  that  they  were  not  alone  in  the  exercises 
of  mind  they  had  thought  peculiar  to  themselves. 
Each  communicated  their  struggles  with  self,  the 
contest  between  sin  and  holiness,  and  each  felt 
encouraged  by  the  triumphs  they  had  been  en- 
abled to  achieve  over  sinful  habits  and  affec- 
tions. 

"  They  shared  their  mutual  woes, 
Their  mutual  burdens  bore, 
And  often  for  each  other  flowed 
The  sympathizing  tear." 


140  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

The  town  of  C.  contained  a  numerous  colored 
population.  Our  young  friends,  Louise  and 
Fanny,  upon  ascertaining  that  there  was  a  small 
Sabbath  school  entirely  for  their  benefit,  deter- 
mined to  offer  themselves  as  teachers. 

The  school  was  superintended  by  Esquire  H., 
one  of  the  prominent  men  of  the  place,  whose 
philanthropy  in  behalf  of  the  colored  race  was 
well  known  and  appreciated. 

He  thanked  them  heartily  for  coming  to  his 
aid,  as  the  school  had  filled  up  of  late,  and 
they  were  much  in  need  of  teachers.  Louise 
was  appointed  to  take  charge  of  the  Bible  class, 
which  at  that  time  consisted  of  seven  members  ; 
but  as  she  took  pleasure  in  calling  upon  them 
at  their  homes,  they  all,  with  one  exception,  be- 
ing married  women,  she  soon  found  herself 
obliged  to  remove  to  another  part  of  the  small 
chapel,  in  order  to  accommodate  her  fifteen 
scholars.  JEsquire  H.  smilingly  remarked,  as  he 
introduced  to  her  one  after  another,  "  This  woman 
Bays  she  has  come  '  to  join  the  Bible  class 
what  has  Miss  Merton  for  a  teacher.'  " 


SABBATH  SCHOOL  CLASS.         141 

Many,  indeed  most,  of  these,  had  at  some 
period  in  their  lives  made  a  profession  of  reli- 
gion, —  some  in  connection  with  the  Methodists, 
others  with  the  Free-will  Baptist  and  Presbyte- 
rian societies  of  the  place  —  but  they  were  gen- 
erally very  ignorant  in  regard  to  the  doctrines 
and  duties  of  the  Bible. 

Louise  found,  however,  two  of  the  older  mem- 
bers of  the  class,  who  had  evidently  long  studied 
the  word  of  God,  and  had  been  taught  by  the 
Spirit  to  understand  its  sacred  truths. 

These  two,  though  nearly  fifty  years  of  age, 
were  commonly  known  by  the  names  of  Jenny 
and  Polly,  but  were  always  addressed  by  Louise 
with  the  respect  due  their  age  and  Christian 
character.  These  scholars  often  put  their  young 
teacher  to  the  blush  by  their  knowledge  of  the 
doctrines  she  was  endeavoring  to  teach. 

Every  moment  that  she  could  command  through 

the  week  from   her  other  duties,  was  devoted  to 

,  the  study  of  the  lesson,  that  she  might   prepare 

herself   to    be   more   useful   to    those   under   her 

care. 

\ 


142  TRYING   TO    BE   USEFUL. 

So  much  interested  did  she  become  in  the 
temporal  and  spiritual  welfare  of  the  colored 
population,  that  she  often  preferred  a  walk 
among  the  back  streets  and  lanes  where  they 
dwelt,  to  riding  and  walking  Avith  her  compan- 
ions for  pleasure.  Even  where  she  was  not 
personally  known,  the  name  "  Miss  Merton" 
always  insured  her  welcome  and  respect,  and 
many  a  poor  sufferer  was  relieved  by  her  sooth- 
ing voice,  as  she  administered  to  their  neces- 
sities. 

One  Sabbath  afternoon,  Esquire  JL,  not  fully 
understanding  the  secret  of  so  powerful  an  in- 
fluence which  so  young  a  person  had  acquired 
over  her  class,  determined  to  take  a  seat  among 
them,  and  witness  her  mode  of  instruction. 

The  class  now  occupied  a  corner  of  the  room, 
so  that  they  all,  when  she  was  seated  before 
them,  could  be  within  sound  of  her  voice. 

On  the  present  occasion,  one  of  the  old  women 
alluded  to  informed  her  teacher  that  Nancy,  one 
of  the  younger  members  of  the  class,  had  been 


SABBATH  SCHOOL  CLASS.        143 

married  the  previous  evening,  and  had  prevailed 
upon  her  husband  to  accompany  her  to  the 
school.  Louise  thought  it  best  to  give  her 
some  instruction  with  regard  to  her  conduct  as 
a  wife,  and  after  expressing  great  pleasure  at 
her  having  invited  her  husband  into  the  school, 
turned  from  the  lesson  in  course  to  the  fifth 
chapter  in  Ephesians,  teaching  the  reciprocal 
duties  of  husbands  and  wives.  Directing  her 
remarks  particularly  to  the  "  bride,"  she  en- 
deavored to  impress  upon  her  mind  that  God 
has  appointed  the  husband  to  be  the  head  of 
the  family,  and  that  reverence  was  due  to  him, 
as  such,  while,  at  the  same  time,  she,  as  a 
Christian,  would  be  able  to  exert  a  great  in- 
fluence over  him. 

She  had  already  remarked  at  some  length 
upon  the  great  importance  of  striving,  by  a 
kind,  consistent  course  of  life,  to  win  him  to 
the  Saviour,  when  a  smile  extending  around  the 
class  attracted  her  attention,  and  turning  to  see 
what  caused  such  unusual  levity,  she,  to  her 


144  TRYING   TO   BE   USEFUL. 

great  embarrassment  and  distress,  perceived  that 
Esquire  H.  had  been  an  attentive  listener  to 
all  that  had  been  said. 

Instantly  it  flashed  upon  her,  that  it  must  • 
appear  to  him  very  ludicrous  for  her,  a  young 
girl,  but  fifteen  years  of  age,  to  be  instructing 
married  women  upon  the  duties  of  matrimony ; 
and  she  turned  away  to  hide  the  tears  which 
forced  themselves  into  her  eyes. 

The  peculiar  smile  around  the  mouth  of  Esquire 
H.  disappeared  in  a  moment,  when  he  saw  that 
he  had  unintentionally  distressed  her,  and  kindly 
saying  he  was  sorry  he  had  interrupted  her  ap- 
propriate remarks,  went  to  another  part  of  the 
room. 

Winter  and  spring  had  passed  pleasantly  away. 
June  had  come,  and  Louise  was  soon  to  return 
to  her  native  village.  Her  heart  bounded  with 
joy  at  the  thought  of  once  more  beholding  the 
faces  of  the  dear  ones  at  home,  and  in  imagina- 
tion she  had  again  and  again  transported  herself 


Louise  and  her  class.    See  p.  144. 


SABBATH    SCHOOL    CLASS.  145 

to  that  most  dearly  loved  spot,  had  received  the 
warm  kiss  of  affection  —  felt  her  father's  kind 
arms  lovingly  embracing  her,  while  her  mother's 
smile  had  lost  none  of  its  sweetness. 

It  was  the  Sabbath.  Louise  was  to  meet  her 
class  probably  for  the  last  time.  The  lesson  was 
read,  a  short  explanation  given,  and  then  Louise 
told  them  she  expected  to  leave  town  in  a  few 
days,  and  that  her  friend  would  take  her  class. 

The  young  teacher  was  sad  at  the  thought  of 
leaving  those  she  had  so  long  instructed,  but 
she  knew  not  how  sad  she  should  feel  until  she 
saw  the  tears  and  heard  the  sobs  caused  by  this 
announcement ;  and  when  the  school  closed  she 
had  not  been  able  at  all  to  reconcile  them  to 
the  idea  of  her  departure. 

The  day  before  she  left  C.,  two  of  the  class 
waited  upon  her  as  a  committee  of  the  whole, 
begging  her  acceptance  of  a  handkerchief  of  the 
finest  texture,  as  a  slight  token  of  their  grati- 
tude and  affection.  Louise  received  the  gift 
with  evident  pleasure,  and  told  them  when  she 
10 


146  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

returned  home  she  should  send  a  book  to  each 
of  the  class,  that  they  might  not  forget  her,  nor 
the  instructions  she  had  given  them.  This  she 
did,  and  in  reply  to  the  letter  accompanying  the 
books,  she  received  one  from  them  after  a  few 
months,  which,  with  their  little  gift,  has  always 
been  retained  among  her  choicest  treasures. 
Soon  after  the  return  of  Louise  from  C.,  she, 
with  her  beloved  Sarah,  felt  an  earnest  desire  to 
commemorate  their  Saviour's  dying  love  at  his 
table.  Upon  informing  their  parents  of  their 
wish,  Dr.  Merton  requested  them  to  write  an  ac- 
count of  their  Christian  experience,  from  the  time 
they  first  thought  themselves  savingly  interested 
in  the  mercy  of  God,  and  also  their  views  of  the 
several  doctrines  expressed  in  the  creed,  and  the 
duties  embraced  in  the  covenant. 

They  complied  with  his  request,  and  their 
accounts  being  satisfactory,  they  were  admitted 
to  full  communion  with  the  visible  church.  Soon 
after  this,  Sarah,  whose  health  had  long  been 
delicate,  began  to  droop  like  a  tender  flower 


SABBATH  SCHOOL  CLASS.         147 

exposed  to  an  autumnal  wind,  and  her  sorrow- 
ing parents  felt  that  they  would  soon  be  called 
to  give  their  youngest  and  loveliest  child  to  the 
Saviour. 

As  her  body  grew  more  feeble,  her  spirit 
seemed  to  expand,  and  it  was  observed  by  all 
who  saw  her,  that  she  was  fast  ripening  for  her 
heavenly  home.  She  was  often  overheard  pray- 
ing, in  a  low,  sweet  voice,  for  her  unconverted 
companions  and  schoolmates.  During  the  past 
winter  she  had  begged  to  be  allowed  a  little 
class  in  the  Sabbath  school,  and  now  her  most 
earnest  petitions  'were  for  those  who  had  been 
under  her  care,  that  they  might  meet  her  in 
heaven. 

It  was  very  affecting  to  hear  her  childish  pe- 
titions at  the  throne  of  grace,  always  addressing 
her  heavenly  Friend  by  the  endearing  name  of 
Father.  She  felt  that  he  cared  for  her  as  a 
tender  father  careth  for  a  beloved  child,  and  she 
willingly  intrusted  herself  to  his  kind  protection. 

So  gently  did   she   pass    away  with  the  leaves 


148  TRYING   TO   BE    USEFUL. 

of  autumn,  that  even  her  most  intimate  friends 
were  not  aware  that  death  was  so  near. 

Parents,  brother,  and  sister  stood  by  the  bed- 
side of  the  dying  girl.  She  had  taken  her 
last  farewell  of  them  all,  and  now  her  redeemed 
spirit  was  waiting  to  take  its  everlasting  flight 
to  the  bosom  of  her  Saviour.  Suppressed  sobs 
alone  interrupted  the  solemn  stillness.  At 
length  the  afflicted  father,  as  he  bent  over  her, 
announced  that  she  was  asleep  —  sweetly  asleep 
in  Jesus. 

"  Glorious  !  glorious  ! "  exclaimed  a  distin- 
guished clergyman  present,  who  had,  in  imagi- 
nation, followed  her  ascending  spirit  to  the 
scenes  of  celestial  glory  bursting  upon  her  view. 
Turning  to  the  weeping  mother,  he  said,  "  Glori- 
ous !  to  give  such  a  child  to  the  Saviour ! " 

"Yes,"  replied  she,  "I  thank  God  that  he 
has  given  me  such  a  child  to  be  a  jewel  in  the 
crown  of  the  Redeemer."  « 


LITTLE   BENNY.  149 


CHAPTER    XII. 

LITTLE     BENNY. 

Louise  to.  Sorrow. — Her  Mother's  Conversation. —Her  Par- 
ents' Fears.  —  Her  Father's  Expedient.  —  Her  Visit  to 
Little  Benny.  —  The  happy  Result.  —  The  new  Suit  of 
Clothes. 

AFTEK  the  excitement  arising  from  the  death 
and  burial  of  Sarah  had  passed  away,  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Merton  became  conscious  of  its  sad  effects 
upon  her  sister.  'The  change  in  Louise  was  in- 
deed great.  Instead  of  the  free,  buoyant  spirits 
which  had  always  characterized  her,  she  was 
now  silent  and  sad;  her  step  had  lost  its  elas- 
ticity, and  was  slow  and  weary ;  her  eyes  no 
longer  beamed  with  hope  and  mirth,  but  were 
grave  and  serious ;  and  if  she  was  suddenly  ad- 
dressed, they  quickly  filled  with  tears. 

Mrs.  Merton's  maternal  heart  was  ready  to 
note  the  first  token  of  alarm.  She  was  mourn- 


150  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 

ing  the  early  loss  of  one  loved  daughter ;  and 
the  altered  appearance  of  Louise  made  her  fear 
she  would  soon  be  called  to  give  up  another. 
She  followed  her  child  to  the  chamber,  and  en- 
deavored to  rouse  her  to  cheerfulness  and  hope. 
For  some  time  Louise  only  wept  in  silence ;  but 
at  length,  overcome  by  her  mother's  earnest 
solicitude,  she  unburdened  her  oppressed  heart, 
and  freely  confessed  the  grief  which  was  con- 
suming her ;  day  and  night  she  mourned  un- 
ceasingly for  the  loved  Sarah.  Every  hour  she 
missed  the  gentle  one,  who,  in  health,  was  scarce 
ever  absent  from  her  side,  while  the  performance 
of  the  ever-recurring  duties  which  they  had  to" 
gether  shared,  had  become  painful  beyond  en- 
durance. 

Louise  confessed  with  bitter  tears  that  she 
knew  her  heart  was  unsubmissive  to  the  divine 
will.  Often,  when  her  pillow  had  been  drenched 
with  weeping,  had  she  struggled  with  herself  to 
be  able  to  say,  "  Thy  will,  not  mine,  be  done." 
And  when  she  fell  asleep  believing  herself  to 


LITTLE    BENNY.  151 

have  conquered,  the  light  of  the  next  morning 
brought  back  a  renewal  of  her  grief. 

Mrs.  Merton  took  the  first  opportunity  of  con- 
sulting her  husband  with  regard 'to  their  child; 
and  they  both  agreed  that  some  means  must  be 
taken  to  turn  her  mind  from  the  sorrow  which 
threatened  to  destroy  her  health,  until  time  could 
allay  the  poignancy  of  her  grief.  Several  plans 
were  suggested  which  it  was  hoped  would  tend 
to  this  result,  and  among  them  a  visit  to  her 
relatives  in  the  country,  where  she  had  always 
appeared  to  enjoy  herself  greatly.  But  the  bare 
statement  of  such  a  proposal  produced  a  more 
violent  passion  of  sorrow  than  any  they  had 
heretofore  witnessed.  It  was  to  this  place  that 
she  had  accompanied  her  sister,  and  every  source 
of  enjoyment,  every  tree  and  shrub  in  her  uncle's 
garden,  was  so  intimately  connected  with  their 
past  pleasures,  that  she  could  not  revert  to  them 
without  anguish. 

The  following  day,  Dr.  Merton  entered  the 
room  where  his  wife  and  daughter  were  sitting 


152  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

silently  at  ^heir  work,  and  in  conformity  with  a 
plan  formed  with  his  wife  the  evening  previous, 
called  out  in  a  cheerful  voice,  "  Come,  my  daugh- 
ter, I  am  going  to  the  east  parish.  Will  you 
accompany  me?" 

The  pensive  smile  accompanying  the  answer, 
"  If  you  wish  it,  father,"  caused  the  doctor's 
heart  to  throb  painfully ;  but,  concealing  his 
emotion,  he  added,  "  Be  quick,  then,  my  dear ;  I 
have  many  calls  to  make,  and  must  return  before 
noon." 

"  Clothe  yourself  warmly,  my  child,"  said  her 
mother,  as  she  laid  aside  her  work  and  arose  to 
leave  the  apartment. 

The  night  had  been  cold  and  frosty,  and  the 
clear,  bracing  air  struck  a  chill  through  the 
shivering  girl ;  but  it  brought  no  trace  of  color 
to  her  pallid  cheek.  The  father  had  intended 
to  appeal  to  her  conscience  whether  she  were 
doing  right  to  cherish  her  grief  in  such  a  degree 
as  to  endanger  her  health ;  but  as  he  cast  his 
eye  upon  her  shrinking  into  the  corner  of  the 


LITTLE   BENNY.  153 

carriage,  he  felt  that  the  present  'was  not  a 
fitting  opportunity,  and  he  determined  to  trust 
to  the  events  of  the  morning  to  divert  her 
thoughts  from  herself. 

After  a  rapid  ride  of  half  an  hour,  the  doctor 
drew  up  to  a  brown  house,  where  he  requested 
Louise  to  alight.  As  he  lifted  her  from  the 
carriage,  he  informed  her  that  three  families  re- 
sided in  the  house,  and  that  he  had  patients  in 
two  of  them.  Having  secured  his  horse  and 
motioned  his  daughter  to  follow  him,  he  passed 
up  the  stairs  common  to  the  different  tenants, 
and  knocked  gently  at  the  door  of  a  room  on 
the  second  floor.  They  heard  a  woman's  voice 
bidding  a  child  open  the  door,  and  presently 
walked  in.  The  first  object  which  struck  Louise 
on  entering  was  a  cot  be*d  standing  near  the 
front  window,  upon  which  was  a  boy,  pale,  but 
intellectual  in  the  expression  of  his  features. 
The  child  was  sitting  nearly  upright  by  means  of 
-various  articles  of  clothing  placed  behind  his 
pillows,  and,  at  the  first  glimpse  of  his  kind 


154  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 

friend,  clapped  his  tiny  hands  and  shouted  an 
exclamation  of  delight.  There  was  something 
about  the  boy  which  so  much  interested  the 
young  girl  that  not  until  the  woman  had  spoken 
several  times  to  offer  her  a  seat  did  she  realize 
that  another  person  was  present. 

"  This  is  my  daughter,"  said  the  doctor,  taking 
the  child's  small  hand  and  tenderly  placing  it  in 
that  of  Louise.  "  I  want  you  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  her.  She  is  very  fond  of  little 
folks." 

"  She's  sick  too,"  suggested  the  boy,  earnestly 
scanning  the  young  lady's  features. 

"  O,  no,"  replied  Louise,  "  I'm  not  sick.  I 
am  only  cold." 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  stay  here  while  I 
make  my  other  calls,"  suggested  the  doctor, 
quickly  taking  advantage  of  the  interest  he  saw 
his  young  patient  had  excited.  "  It  will  be  but 
little  farther  for  me  to  come  round  this  way  on 
my  return." 

Louise  readily  assented,  and   before  her  father 


LITTLE    BENNY.  155 

left  the  house,  had  taken  off  her  outer  garments 
and  set  herself  to  w,ork  cultivating  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  boy.  In  the  hour  which  followed,  she 
played  cat's  cradle  with  him,  drew  houses,  horses, 
and  dogs  upon  his  slate,  and  at  length  wholly  won 
the  heart  of  the  little  fellow  by  explaining  the 
cuts  in  his  picture  book,  and  relating  the  Bible 
stories  connected  with  them.  When  her  father 
returned  to  take  her  home,  he  was  delighted  with 
the  result  of  his  expedient.  Her  eye  sparkled 
with  something  of  its  former  animation  as  Benny 
exclaimed,  "  O,  I  like  to  have  her  here !  I  wish 
you  would  bring  her  every  day." 

As  Dr.  Merton  found  it  necessary  to  make  a 
daily  visit  to  a  woman  who  occupied  the  same 
house,  Louise  found  opportunity  to  repeat  her  visit 
to  little  Benny,  and  at  length  was  as  warmly 
welcomed  by  him  as  her  father  had  been.  In 
consequence  of  the  rickets,  the  child  had  been  a 
cripple  from  the  cradle ;  but  while  his  body  had 
remained  inactive,  his  mind  had  expanded  until 
his  intellectual  attainments  far  exceeded  those  of 


156  TKYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 

most  children  of  the  same  age.  Though  only  in 
his  sixth  year,  he  could  both  read  and  understand 
the  simple  stories  which  kind  friends  had  pre- 
sented him.  Indeed,  his  remarks  often  proved  him 
to  have  thought  upon  what  he  had  read.  His 
greatest  delight,  however,  was  in  listening  to 
Bible  stories  ;  and  Louise,  who  had  a  particular 
tact  in  telling  them,  found  interest  and  inspira- 
tion from  his  open-mouthed  wonder.  One  day, 
while  waiting  for  her  father,  ske  discovered  that 
her  patient  little  friend  was  scantily  furnished 
with  clothes  for  the  coming  season.  His  usual 
dress  was  a  calico  robe,  and  the  one  he  now 
wore  was  torn  and  ragged.  With  her  mother's 
delighted  assent,  the  young  girl  made  a  new 
one  of  rich,  dark  calico,  trimming  the  collar  and 
cuffs  with  stripes  of  red  bordering :  then,  begging 
some  pieces  of  flannel,  for  under  shirts,  she  soon 
had  a  complete  suit  for  her  sick  favorite. 

When  she  exhibited  her  present  to  Benny, 
his  delight  far  more  than  compensated  for  the 
trouble  she  had  taken.  He  insisted  upon  wearing 


LITTLE   BENNY.  157 

it  directly,  and  cast  aside  his  old  one  with 
many  expressions  of  contempt.  Every  part  fitted 
exactly  —  even  the  tiny  cuffs,  which  Louise  had 
feared  were  too  small.  She  left  him  after  an 
hour  still  admiring  himself  in  his  new  garment, 
little  thinking  how  many  months  would  pass 
before  she  ishould  see  him  again. 


158  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

GOING    WEST. 

Sickness  of  Louise.  —  Visit  of  Mr.  Bond.  —  Her  Interest  in  his 
Conversation. —  His  Invitation.  —  Her  Parents'  Consent.— 
The  Journey.  —  Mr.  Bond's  Interview  with  a  Profane  Youth. 

JUST  as  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Merton  were  beginning 
to  be  confirmed  in  the  hope  of  Louise's  ultimate 
recovery,  she  was  attacked  with  a  severe  cold 
and  cough,  which  confined  her  to  the  house  for 
many  weeks. 

One  day,  at  the  dinner  table,  her  father  men- 
tioned that  he  had  received  a  letter  from  an  old 
friend,  informing  him  of  an  intention  to  visit 
their  village,  and  to  pass  the  night  with  them. 
Toward  the  close  of  the  afternoon,  Louise,  from 
her  chamber,  heard  her  father's  welcome,  and 
urged  her  mother  to  allow  her  to  remain  above 
stairs,  as  she  much  dreaded  the.  sight  of 
strangers. 


GOING  WEST.  159 

Mrs.  Merton  gently  replied,  "  No,  my  daugh- 
ter. He  will  inquire  for  you,  and  would  be 
pained  by  your  avoiding  him." 

It  was  with  unusual  reluctance,  however,  that 
the  young  girl  obeyed  the  summons  to  tea;  but 
one  glance  into  the  mild,  pleasant  eyes  of  Mr. 
Bond  expelled  every  unpleasant  feeling,  and 
drew  out  her  heart  toward  him. 

The  gentleman  quickly  arose,  and  advancing 
toward  her,  took  both  her  hands  in  his,  cordial- 
ly expressing  his  pleasure  at  seeing  her.  Then 
leading  her  to  a  seat  at  the  table,  he  placed  her 
in  it .  with  the  kindness  of  a  father,  and  all  the 
playfulness  of  an  old  friend. 

Mr.  Bond  was  a  missionary  from  the  far 
west.  While  in  college  he  had  distinguished 
himself  by  his  attainments,  and  many  prophesied 
for  him  a  brilliant  future.  But  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  those  who  prized  worldly  honors  above 
the  reward  Christ  has.  offered  such  as  labor  in 
his  vineyard,  he  entered  upon  the  study  of 


160  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

theology,    with    the    expressed    determination    of 
becoming  a  missionary. 

At  the  expiration  of  his  theological  course,  he 
received  a  pressing  invitation  to  become  pastor 
of  a  large  church  in  a  New  England  city ;  but 
not  one  moment  did  he  turn  aside  from  the 
field  to  which  he  had  devoted  himself.  Only 
pausing  for  one  farewell  visit  to  his  aged  parents, 
he  sped  on  his  way  to  his  distant  home,  prom- 
ising, if  Providence  favored  him,  to  return  in 
one  year  for  the  lady  who  had  consented  to  be 
his  wife.  At  the  time  of  his  visit  to  Dr.  Mer- 
ton,  he  had  been  married  eighteen  years,  had 
become  the  father  of  seven  children,  three  of 
whom  had  died  in  infancy.  When  some  of  his 
friends  wondered  at  his  continuing  in  so  limited 
a  sphere,  he  smiled  as  he  answered  that  his 
duties  were  as  numerous  as  those  of  a  prime 
minister,  and  his  influence  too  great  for  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  grace  of  humility.  And  it  was 
truly  the  case,  that  while  he  had  occupied  the 
same  pulpit  ever  since  his  first  visit  to  the 


GOING  WEST.  161 

western  country,  he  had  helped  to  gather  and 
build  up  many  churches,  where  the  facilities,  by 
communications  with  great  thoroughfares,  had 
speedily  converted  the  small  village,  with  only 
a  score  or  two  of  inhabitants,  into  a  populous 
town.  In  every  doubtful  or  difficult  case,  the 
subject  was  referred  to  Parson  Bond,  whose  de- 
cision was  considered  final. 

There  was  a  vein  of  mirth  in  the  gentleman's 
character  which,  added  to  his  cordial,  western 
manner,  and  the  real  kindness  of  his  heart,  gave 
him  great  power  over  all  with  whom  he  was 
associated.  During  the  evening  following  the 
introduction  of  Louise  to  him,  her  parents  were 
delighted  to  witness  the  interest  with  which  she 
listened  to  his  account  of  the  great  work  to 
be  accomplished  in  the  west.  Mr.  Bond  drew  a 
vivid  picture  of  the  wants  of  the  settlers,  many 
of  whom  had  emigrated  from  New  England 
towns,  but  who  were  now  without  any  means 
of  educating  their  children  or  of  attending  divine 
worship. 

11 


162  TRYING   TO   BE   USEFUL. 

"  I .  should  think,"  suggested  Louise,  with 
something  of  her  former  zeal,  "  that  the  children 
could  be  gathered  into  a  Sabbath  school." 

"  True  enough,"  responded  Mr.  Bond,  with  a 
warm  smile  ;  "  that  is  just  what  we  wish  —  the 
first  step  toward  the  formation  of  a  church;  but 
where  are  the  teachers  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  your  daughter  would  engage  in  such 
a  work." 

"  Perhaps  she  would,"  replied  the  gentleman, 
with  a  hearty  laugh,  as  he  took  Louise's  hand 
and  gave  it  a  condescending  pat,  as  if  he  pitied 
her  ignorance.  "  Well,  Emily  has  —  let  me  see 
—  one,  two,  three,  four  schools  on  her  hands  at 
present.  The  Sabbath  is  no  day  of  rest  for  poor 
Emily." 

"  Well,  then,  if  my  parents  will  consent,  I 
will  go.  and  help  her,"  exclaimed  Louise,  with 
a  burst  of  feeling. 

"  I  could  assure  you  of  a  hearty  welcome," 
replied  the  gentleman,  giving  her  hand  a  cordial 
squeeze. 


GOING    WEST.  163 

The  subject  was  then  diverted  to  another 
source,  as  Mr.  Bond  perceived  that  the  proposi- 
tion of  Louise  was  a  startling  one,  and  that  her 
parents  were  not  prepared  at  once  to  decide 
upon  it. 

The  next  morning  the  young  girl  added  her 
entreaties  to  those  of  her  parents,  that  Mr. 
Bond  would  prolong  his  visit.  This  his  engage- 
ments prevented ;  but  he  promised  to  returri  to 
them  for  a  day  or  two  before  he  left  for  his 
western  home.  He  then  drew  Dr.  Merton  aside, 
and  urged  him  to  allow  Louise  to  accompany 
him,  and  pass  the  winter  in  his  family.  He 
found  the  father  more  favorable  to  the  proposal 
than  he  had  dared  to  hope ;  but  the  doctor  said 
he  feared  Mrs.  Merton  would  not  consent,  as 
their  daughter  was  in  delicate  health. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  detail  all  the  struggles  in 
the  mother's  heart,  before  she  could  give  her 
cordial  approval  to  the  plan.  It  is  sufficient  to 
say  that  when  Mr.  Bond  returned  to  the  village, 
Louise  was  ready  to  accompany  him  to  L.  Dur- 


164  TRYING  TO   BE    USEFUL. 

ing  all  the  preparations  for  her  journey,  she 
displayed  so  much  interest,  and  even  zeal,  that 
her  mother  was  convinced  the  change  would  be 
highly  beneficial  to  her  health.  The  last  day  at 
home  was  the  most  painful  one.  Agnes,  who, 
through  all  her  trials,  had  been  an  invaluable 
comforter  and  friend,  passed  it  with  her.  To- 
gether they  visited  the  grave  of  Sarah,  which 
Louise  watered  with  tears ;  together  they  bade 
adieu  to  many  dear  friends ;  and  the  young  girl 
received  many  warm  wishes  for  the  entire  res- 
toration of  her  health  and  spirits.  Nor  was 
little  Benny  forgotten.  Agnes  received  him  as  a 
precious  charge  from  her  friend,  and  promised 
to  visit  him  as  often  as  possible. 

It  was  considered  quite  an  event,  in  their  little 
community,  for  one  of  their  number  to  travel  so 
far  as  the  western  country  ;  and  though  Louise 
was  to  start  early,  all  her  young  friends  were 
present  to  give  her  a  parting  kiss.  Phebe 
Shepard  loudly  exclaimed,  that  she  wished  she 
were  going,  too  ;  while  Ellen  Fuller  and  Lucy 


GOING   WEST  165 

Lovell  hoped  she  would  not  be  gone  long.  Her 
old  friend  Nancy  silently  put  into  her  hand  a 
brown  paper  parcel,  making  a  significant  motion 
with  her  mouth,  that  it  was  to  satisfy  her  hun- 
ger when  she  was  in  the  region  of  bears 
and  wolves.  The  faithful  domestic  had  a 
great  prejudice  against  the  western  country,  as 
abounding  "  with  those  varmin,"  as  she  called 
them. 

When  the  stage  coach  drove  to  the  door,  Mr. 
Bond  made  his  appearance  from  the  study,  fol- 
lowed by  the  good  father  and  mother.  Mrs. 
Merton's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears;  but  she 
pressed  Louise  to  her  heart,  whispering,  "  Do  all 
the  good  you  can,  my  daughter,  and  that  shall 
be  my  recompense  for  your  loss  this  winter." 

"  Let  us  hear  from  you  soon,"  called  out  Dr. 
Merton  as  the  stage  drove  away.  Louise  waved 
her  handkerchief  in  reply.  She  was  now  fairly 
started  on  her  journey  to  the  west,  where  she 
hoped  to  accomplish  much  in  her  Saviour's 
cause. 


166  TRYING    TO    BE    USEFUL. 

The  following  week  a  letter  was  received  from 
her,  dated  New  York.  It  was  as  follows  :  — 

"  DEAR  FATHER  AND  MOTHER  : 

"  We  reached  this  great  city  last  evening. 
Mr.  Bond  says  he  shall  be  detained  here  two 
days.  I  came  directly  to  aunt  Emily's,  where  I 
met  a  most  cordial  reception.  Fortunately  for 
me,  cousin  Charles  is  at  home  from  college,  and 
says  he  shall  be  most  happy  to  show  me  the 
lions.  I  am  to  accompany  him  this  afternoon  to 
see  West's  picture  of  '  Christ  Rejected.' 

"I  find  Mr.  Bond  a  very  kind  and  interesting 
travelling  companion.  Every  hour  I  realize 
more  truly  how  unreservedly  he  has  devoted 
himself  to  the  service  of  his  divine  Master. 
While  on  board  the  steamboat  I  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  Avitness  an  instance  of  his  desire  to  do 
good.  He  had  gfren  me  his  arm  on  deck, 
and  we  were  standing  near  the  railing,  watch- 
ing a  boat  which  was  passing  us.  Two  young 
gentlemen  stood  near.  They  were  dressed 


GOING    WEST.  167 

very  handsomely,  and  were  talking  earnestly 
together,  when  one  of  them  made  a  remark  at 
which  the  other  took  offence,  and  used  dread- 
fully profane  language.  I  saw  Mr.  Bond  turn 
suddenly,  and  cast  a  quick  glance  at  the  young 
man,  and  I  feared  he  was  going  to  address  him 
in  words  of  reproof.  I  knew  this  was  deserved ; 
but  my  heart  beat  painfully,  lest  there  should 
be  some  sharp  words  in  return.  I  think  my 
countenance  must  have  shown  my  alarm,  for 
Mr.  Bond  abruptly  led  me  away  to  another  part 
of  the  boat.  Here  I  soon  gained  the  friendship 
of  a  young  boy,  whose  broad,  noble  head  re- 
minded me  of  our  own  little"  Benny's  ;  and  after 
a  few  moments  my  kind  friend  asked  me  to  ex- 
cuse him  for  a  short  time.  What  was  my 
astonishment  to  see  him  approach  the  profane 
youth,  who  was  standing  near  us,  and  after  a 
few  words,  take  his  arm,  and  pace  the  deck  by 
his  side.  I  gazed  at  them  with  great  interest, 
every  moment  expecting  to  see  some  manifesta- 


168  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

tion  of  anger  from  the  jmmg  man;  but  I  was 
soon  relieved,  for  the  next  time  they  came  near 
me,  I  saw  Mr.  Bond  point  toward  a  town  we 
could  just  discern  in  the  distance,  and  heard 
him  commence  some  anecdote,  when  they  turned 
back,  and  his  voice  was  lost  to  me. 

"  Just  then  my  little  friend  asked  me  to  ac- 
company him  to  the  other  end  of  the  boat,  and 
as  his  mother  consented,  we  walked  across  the 
deck,  and  at  length  seated  ourselves  in  a  re- 
tired place  to  watch  the  foam  from  the  wheel. 
It  was  not  long  before  I  heard  a  low  murmur 
of  voices  near  us,  and  upon  listening  closely  I 
distinguished  that  of  Mr.  Bond.  In  the  most 
tender,  fatherly  manner,  he  was  entreating  the 
youth  to  break  off  his  dreadful  habit  of  pro- 
fanity, saying,  '  It  makes  my  heart  ache  to  see 
one  of  so  interesting  an  appearance,  one  who 
might  be  such  an  ornament  to  society,  degrade 
himself  in  such  a  manner.'  Finding  his  com- 
panion made  no  remark,  he  went  on  to  say  how 


GOING   WEST.  169 

awful  it  was  to  break  the  law  of  God,  repeating 
a  part  of  tlie  third  command,  '  For  the  Lord 
will  not  hold  him  guiltless  that  taketh  his  name 
in  vain.' 

"  All  this  time  I  held  little  Arthur's  hand 
tightly,  so  that  he  might  not  move.  Indeed,  I 
suppressed  my  own  breath,  I  was  so  afraid  we 
should  be  discovered,  and  we  could  not  get 
away  without  passing  very  near  them.  Mr. 
Bond  went  on  in  such  an  earnest,  loving  tone, 
that  I  was  sure  no  offence  could  be  taken, 
though  I  could  no  longer  understand  the  words ; 
and  presently  they  arose  and  walked  away  to- 
gether. Just  as  we  were  leaving  the  boat,  there 
was  a  sudden  confusion  at  my  side,  and  turn- 
ing around  I  saw  the  same  young  man  grasp 
Mr.  Bond's  hand,  and  shake  it  as  if  he 
would  never  let  him  go.  With  streaming  eyes, 
he  exclaimed,  '  Good  by,  sir  !  good  by  !  You 
have  proved  yourself  the  best  friend  I  ever 
had.' 


170  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 

"  *  Come  and  see  me  at  L.,'  answered  Mr. 
Bond,  trying  to  conceal  his  emotion. 

" '  I  would  go  a  hundred  miles  to  see  you  once 
more,'  called  out  the  youth;  and  that  was  the 
last  we  saw  of  him."  • 


THE   LOST   MONET.  171 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE     LOST     MONEY. 

Letter  of  Louise  to  her  Parents.  —  Description  of  her  new 
Friends.  —  James  Gannet. — His  Loss.  —  Expedient  of  Mr. 
Bond.  —  James's  Gratitude.  —  The  Sabbath  Schools.  —  Zeal 
of  Louise  in  the  good  Work. 

VAEIOUS  reasons  occurred  to  detain  Mr.  Bond 
upon  his  western  journey,  so  that  he  did  not 
reach  home  until  the  end  of  the  fifth  week.  I 
shall  quote  from  the  letter  of  Louise  an  account 
of  her  reception  in  L.,  and  also  some  events 
.which  interested  her  in  her  journey. 

"  DEARLY  BELOVED  PARENTS  : 

* 

"  We  have  at  length  reached  the  great  valley, 
and  I  begin  to  realize  how  far  I  am  from  home. 
You  can  easily  imagine  my  delight  when  dear, 
good  Mrs.  Bond  placed  in  my  hands  a  letter 
from  you.  Coming  as  it  did  at  the  first  moment 


172  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

of  our  meeting,  and  commending  me  to  her  care 
with  so  much  tenderness,  it  took  away  all  the 
desolation  and  loneliness  I  expected  to  feel 
among  strangers.  But  in  the  family  of  Mr. 
Bond  I  never  could  have  experienced  these. 
You  know  what  a  charm  there  is  about  him, 
and  how  my  heart,  though  sore  with  grief,  was 
drawn  toward  him  in  the  first  moment  of  our 
meeting.  Mrs.  Bond  is  worthy  to  he  the  wife 
of  such  a  man.  This  I  intend  as  the  highest 
compliment  that  could  be  paid  her.  She  is  emi- 
nently a  Christian  lady ;  courteous,  but  enthusi- 
astically warm  in  her  manners,  and  fervent  in 
her  piety.  Emily,  who  is  about  my  own  age,  is 
cordial  and  energetic,  very  quick  in  her  motions, 
with  her  eyes  wide  open  to  every  thing  passing 
about  her.  She  has  her  father's  sweet  mouth 
and  pleasant  smile,  but  otherwise  her  counte- 
nance is  not  particularly  attractive. 

"  Then  comes  Joseph,  his  mother's  boy  in  looks 
and  ways  ;  a  noble  youth  as  far  as  I  can  judge 
from  an  acquaintance  of  twenty-four  hours.  Ed- 


THE    LOST   MONEY.  173 

ward,  the  next  in  order,  is  absent  from  home, 
but  is  to  be  sent  for  to-day,  as  his  father  is 
impatient  to  see  him.  Then  comes  little  Bella, 
the  fairy  of  the  household.  I  think  her  the  most 
beautiful  child  I  have  seen.  Very  slight  and 
symmetrical  in  figure,  she  is  constantly  in  mo- 
tion, dancing  here  and  there,  always  about  one, 
but  never  in  the  way  ;  while  out  of  her  sweet, 
laughing  mouth  come  such  sage  inquiries  and 
grave  reflections '  as  make  persons  smile  in  spite 
of  themselves.  This  morning  I  heard  her  ask- 
ing her  father  how  many  Louise  Mertons  he 
found  while  he  was  away,  and  why  he  didn't 
bring  some  more  of  them  to  L.  for  her  to 
play  with.  Mr.  Bond  cast  a  most  quizzical  glance 
at  me  as  he  replied,  '  One  Louise  is  as  much 
as  I  can  manage.'  The  child  looked  grave  for 
one  instant,  and  then  exclaimed,  with  a  merry 
laugh,  <  O  papa,  you  are  bringing  a  joke  on  me.' 
"  But  I  must  relate  a  curious  event  which  oc- 
curred in  the  canal  boat.  A  few  hours  after  we 
went  on  board,  I  noticed  a  young  man  sitting 


174  TRYING   TO   BE    USEFUL. 

alone,  weeping  bitterly.  I  pointed  him  out  to 
Mr.  Bond,  who  led  me  to  a  secure  place,  and 
went  directly  to  him.  About  half  an  hour  after- 
wards I  saw  them  going  together,  to  the  captain's 
office,  my  kind  friend  saying  as  he  passed,  that 
he  hoped  I  should  be  able  to  interest  myself  in 
looking  about,  as  he  had  business  enough  for 
the  afternoon.  When  he  came  to  lead  me  to 
the  supper  table,  he  told  me  that  the  youth, 
whose  name  was  James  Gannet,  had  been  robbed 
of  three  hundred  dollars  the  previous  night. 
He  had  been  living  at  the  west,  had  just  re- 
turned 'to  Vermont,  where  his  parents  lived,  and 
obtained  their  promise  to  emigrate  with  him  as 
soon  as  he  had  purchased  some  land  and  built  a 
log  house.  His  uncle  was  so  much  pleased  with 
his  care  of  his  aged  parents,  that  he  had  pre- 
sented him  with  two  hundred  dollars  in  new 
bills  on  the  Bank  of  America.  Beside  this,  he 
had  one  hundred  in  small  bills,  together  with 
some  silver  in  a  purse,  to  pay  the  expenses  of 
his  journey.  The  night  before  he  took  the  boat, 


THE   LOST   MONEY.  175 

he  slept  in  the  room  with  three  men,  one  of 
whom  occupied  the  same  bed  with  him.  When 
he  undressed,  he  placed  the  leather  pocket  book 
containing  his  money  under  his  pillow,  unper- 
ceived,  as  he  thought,  by  any  one.  He  was  very 
tired,  and  slept  so  sound  that  when  he  awoke 
his  companions  had  all  left  the  room.  Supposing 
he  might  be  too  late  for  the  boat,  he  dressed 
in  haste,  snatched  his  wallet  from  its  hiding 
place,  ate  his  breakfast,  and  hurried  to  the  land- 
ing. There  were  so  many  coming  and  going, 
that  he  had  no  opportunity  to  see  if  his  money 
was  safe,  until  he  was  fairly  on  board,  when,  to 
his  horror,  he  found  every  bill  was  gone.  He 
at  once  suspected  his  bedfellow,  and  was  on  his 
way  to  the  captain  to  beg  to  be  set  ashore, 
when  he  met  the  identical  man,  and  told  him 
at  once  of  his  loss.  The  man  sympathized  with 
him,  but  said  it  was  no  use  to  go  back  to  the 
tavern ;  nothing  could  be  done  there.  The  best 
way  was  to  advertise,  and  offer  a  suitable  reward 
to  the  finder. 


176  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

"  It  was  just  at  this  time  that  I  first  saw 
him,  when  he  began  to  realize  that  his  money 
was  gone  beyond  recovery  —  that  his  uncle 
would  blame  him  for  his  carelessness,  and  his 
parents  be  compelled  to  wait  a  year  longer  be- 
fore they  could  join  him.  Mr.  Bond  made 
James  point  out  the  suspected  man,  and  after- 
wards talked  with  him  as  if  he  were  asking  ad- 
vice for  the  poor  youth.  Mr.  Morey,  as  he 
called  himself,  said  he  pitied  the  young  fellow, 
if  he  had  really  met  with  a  loss,  but  that  there 
had  been  cases  within  his  own  knowledge  where 
a  similar  story  was  greatly  exaggerated,  or 
wholly  manufactured  for  the  occasion.  '  At  any 
rate,'  he  added,  '  after  standing,  as  James  stated 
that  he  had  for  half  an  hour  waiting  for  the 
boat,  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd,  he  couldn't 
reasonably  expect  to  recover  his  property.' 

"Mr.  Bond,  fully  convinced  that  Mr.  Mo- 
rey was  the  thief,  taxed  his  ingenuity  to  in- 
vent some  method  of  getting  the  money  from 
him.  It  must  be  done  at  once,  or  the  man 


THE   LOST   MONEY.  177 

might  go  ashore.  The  story  soon  spread  among 
the  passengers,  and  one  benevolent  gentleman 
suggested  making  up  a  purse  for  the  unfortunate 
youth.  Mr.  Morey  seconded  this  in  a  loud  tone, 
and  opened  his  well-filled  pocket  book,  as  much 
as  to  say  he  was  ready  to  do  his  part ;  but 
James,  with  a  blushing  cheek,  thanked  the  gen- 
tleman, saying  he  had  rather  have  one  dollar  of 
his  own  earnings  than  a  hundred  given  him  in 
charity. 

"  But  I  must  hasten  to  the  end  of  my  story. 
Mr.  Bond  threw  himself  upon  a  bench  near  tho 
place  where  the  passengers  landed,  and,  through 
the  night,  no  one  individual  left  the  boat  with- 
out his  knowledge.  The  next  morning  the  first 
person  I  SAW  was  James,  who  seemed  to  con- 
sider Mr.  Bond  in  the  light  of  a  father.  After 
some  conversation  with  the  captain,  a  plan  was 
formed  for  a  number  of  gentlemen  to  gather 
around  Mr.  Morey  without  exciting  his  suspi- 
cions, and  then  Mr.  Bond  would  propose  that,  as 
the  youth  suspected  the  thief  was  on  board,  they 
12 


178  TRYING   TO    BE   USEFUL. 

should  each  give  their  pocket  books  to  the  cap- 
tain for  examination.  As  so  many  of  the  bills 
Were  new  and  upon  one  bank,  they  hoped  to  iden- 
tify them.  A  good  opportunity  soon  occurred ; 
the  proposal  was  made,  and  Mr.  Morey  was 
the  first  to  fall  in  with  it.  '  Yes,'  said  he,  *  I 
approve  of  that,  and  I'm  ready,  for  one.  I  hope 
we  shall  find  the  cowardly  robber.' 

"  This  course  rather  turned  the  feeling  in  his 
favor,  and  the  examination  would  have  ceased 
had  it  not  been  for  Mr.  Bond,  who  kept  his 
keen,  searching  eye  fixed  upon  him,  to  the 
wicked  man's  evident  annoyance.  He  then  gave 
up  his  own  poorly  filled  wallet,  which  the 
captain  just  glanced  into,  and  respectfully  re- 
turned. 

"  Mr.  Morey  then  endeavored  to  turn  the 
whole  thing  into  a  joke.  He  grew  very  much 
excited  —  talked  loud  and  somewhat  profane. 
Fortunately,  as  it  proved,  the  noise  drew  together 
nearly  all  the  gentlemen  on  board ;  and  when 
the  captain  was  just  advising  Mr.  Bond  to 


THE   LOST   MONEY.  179 

abandon  all  further  search,  one  man  called  out  a 
request  to  be  enlightened  as  to  the  cause  of  the 
sport.  '  Captain  Harris,'  said  Mr.  Bond,  '  will 
comply  with  the  request ; '  and  no  sooner  did  he 
name  the  new  bills  upon  the  Bank  of  America, 
than  a  gentleman  sprang  forward  and  caught 
Mr.  Morey  by  the  arm,  shouting,  '  Here  is  the 
thief!  I  have  the  bills  safe  in  my  pocket 
book.' 

"  The  wicked  fellow  broke  away,  and  tried  to 
throw  himself  into  the  water  to  swim  ashore, 
but  he  was  soon  safely  secured,  and  the  money 
restored.  The  gentleman  afterwards  explained 
that,  the  day  before,  he  happened  to  be  counting 
some  bills  he  had  just  taken  in  trade,  when 
this  fellow  came  along,  and  asked  if  he  would 
have  the  goodness  to  exchange  some  New  York 
bills  for  western  money.  This  was  done,  and 
thus  the  stolen  property  came  into  his  posses- 
sion. The  captain  promised  to  deliver  the  thief 
to  the  proper  authorities. 

"The   face  of  James  fairly  shone  with  joy  as 


180  TRYING   TO  BE   USEFUL. 

he  received  from  Mr.  Bond  his  restored  money. 
'  How  can  I  repay  your  goodness,  sir  ? '  he 
asked,  as  he  followed  us  to  a  retired  seat.  '  I 
never  should  have  recovered  my  money  but  for 
you,  and  it  is  right  you  should  share  it  with 
me.' 

"  '  My  dear  young  friend,'  answered  Mr.  Bond, 
putting  his  hand  upon  James's  shoulder,  '  I  have 
no  doubt  you  are  grateful  for  the  trifling  favor 
I  have  done  you,  and  there  is  a  way  you  can 
repay  me  without  any  loss  to  yourself.' 

"His  manner  was  grave  and  tender,  and  I 
listened  attentively  to  what  followed,  while 
James's  eager  face  proved  he  was  ready  to  do 
whatever  his  benefactor  required. 

"  '  It  is  this,'  continued  Mr.  Bond.  '  Love  the 
Saviour  with  all  your  heart,  and  sffrve  him  with 
all  your  might.' 

"  James  burst  into  tears,  and  then  followed  a 
free  conversation,  in  which  he  said  he  had  begun 
to  love  Christ,  and  it  was  his  only  drawback  in 
leaving  his  native  village,  that  he  should  be  de- 


THE    LOST   MONEY.  181 

prived  of  his  Sabbath  privileges,  and  feared  he 
should  grow  cold  in  his'  zeal  for  his  divine 
Master. 

"You  see,  my  dear  parents,  I  have  filled 
almost  two  sheets  with  the  account  of  James, 
and  have  only  a  few  lines  in  which  to  tell  you  that 
I  am  much  better  in  health  than  when  I  left 
home,  and  that  I  long  to  begin  the  work  for 
which  I  came  to  the  west.  To-morrow  is  the 
Sabbath,  and  I  have  .  promised  to  accompany 
Emily  to  two  of  her  schools.  Even  Edward  has 
a  class,  and  the  whole  family,  not  excepting 
darling  little  Bella,  appear  to  feel  that  there  is 
a  great  work  to  do  here,  and  each  one  is  ready 
to  do  his  part.  If  God  gives  me  strength,  I 
shall  rejoice  to  aid  them. 

Your  loving  daughter, 

LOUISE." 

In  a  letter  from  Mr.  Bond  to  Dr.  Merton,  a 
few  weeks  later,  he  expressed  himself  as  highly 
gratified  with  her  conduct  during  their  recent 


182  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

journey.  "  She  was  always  pleased,"  lie  wrote, 
"  when  I  devoted  myself  to  her,  and  always 
satisfied  when  I  was  otherwise  employed.  She 
was  interested  in  the  scenery,  and  interested  in 
her  companions ;  ready  to  receive  a  favor,  and 
far  more  ready  to  grant  one.  This  is,  I  think, 
characteristic  of  her  —  a  desire  to  oblige  those 
about  her;,  and  many  mothers,  weary  with  their 
numerous  cares  during  a  long  and  fatiguing 
journey,  will  agree  with  me,  that  she  was  inde- 
fatigable in  her  efforts  to  interest  and  amuse  her 
young  travelling  companions." 

To  say  that   Louise   regarded   her  new  friend, 

/ 
Emily,  with   admiration,    and   longed    to    imitate 

her  example,  would  but  feebly  express  the  feel- 
ings with  which  she  retired  to  rest  on  the  first 
Sabbath  after  her  arrival.  She  mourned  that 
she  had  heretofore  done  so  little  for  Him  who 
had  bought  her  with  a  price  "  all  price  be- 
yond ;  "  she  devoted  herself  renewedly  to  his 
service,  and  prayed  for  wisdom  and  strength  to 
do  his  will. 


THE    LOST    MONET.  183 

In  the  morning  Mr.  Bond  had  cautioned  her 
against  undertaking  too  much,  and  his  wife  re- 
stricted her  visits  to  the  schools  nearest  their 
residence.  But  when  Emily  returned  at  night, 
in  company  with  her  brother,  from  a  ride  of  ten 
miles,  and  gave  a  glowing  picture  of  the  in- 
creasing interest  and  desire  for  instruction  mani- 
fested by  her  young  pupils,  she  protested  against 
being  held  back  from  joining  the  great  work, 
and  during  the  succeeding  months,  proved,  by 
her  untiring  zeal,  that  her  heart  was  in  it. 


184  TRYING   TO    BE   USEFUL. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE     NEW     MINISTER. 

Good  News. — Visit  of  James  Gannet.  —  Arrival  of  Mr.  Olm- 
stead.  —  Bella's  Mission.  —  James's  Purchase  of  a  Farm.  — 
New  Arrangement  of  the  Sabbath  Schools.  —  Letters  from 
New  England.  —  Sickness  and  Death  of  little  Benny. 

"  WELL,  my  daughters,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Bond, 
one  day  as  he  entered  the  sitting  room  where  his 
wife  and  children  were  busy  at  their  sewing, 
"  I  have  good  news  for  you.  See  which  of  you 
will  prove  the  best  Yankee,  and  can  guess  it 
first." 

"  I  guess  you  have  a  letter  for  me,"  cried 
Louise,  earnestly. 

"  And  I  guess  the  river  is  frozen  so  that  we 
can  have  a  fine  ride,"  shouted  Emily. 

A  mysterious  shake  of  the  head  proved  that 
neither  was  right.  Mr.  Bond  nodded  to  his 
wife  to  try  her  skill.  She  gazed  steadily  at  her 


THE   NEW  MINISTER.  185 

husband  for  a  moment,  and  then,  satisfied  that 
the  intelligence  was  of  some  importance,  said, 
"  Perhaps  Dr.  Morrison  has  returned." 

"  Aha  !  "  cried  the  gentleman,  laughing ;  "  old 
heads  are  always  wiser  than  young  ones.  You 
are  nearer  right  than  these  merry  girls,  and  yet 
you  are  all  wrong.  Dr.  Morrison  has  not  re- 
turned, and  what  is  worse,  is  not  likely  to  do 
so  for  a  year;  but  he  has  sent  a  young  man  to 
occupy  his  pulpit,  and " 

"  O,  who  is  he?  Shall  we  like  him?  "  eagerly 
interrupted  Emily. 

"  His  name  is  Olmstead.  Time  will  prove," 
replied  the  father,  laconically. 

"  Now  don't  tease  us,  papa.  Please  tell  us  all 
you  know.  It  will  be  so  delightful  to  have 
service  at  Morristown  again;  only  I  hope  that 
he  is  the  right  sort  of  a  man." 

"  And  that  he  is  fond  of  children,  and  will 
sustain  that  large  Bible  class,  so  that  you  can 
be  spared,"  added  Louise,  her  face  all  in  a  glow 
of  animation. 


186  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

Mr.  Bond  smilingly  consented  to  tell  all  he 
knew  upon  the  subject.  "  First,"  said  ho,  "  I 
have  seen  the  young  man,  and  am  favorably  im- 
pressed with  his  appearance." 

"We  can't  judge  much  by  that,"  whispered 
Emily  to  Louise.  "  He  judges  favorably  of  every 
one." 

"  A  high  compliment,"  said  the  gentleman, 
bowing  gayly  to  his  daughter.  "  Does  not  the 
good  book  require  us  to  '  think  no  evil '  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  mean  you  to  hear,"  answered  the 
girl,  with  a  slight  blush. 

"  Well,  to  return  to  Mr.  Olmstead.  Here  is 
a  letter  I  have  received  from  Dr.  Morrison,  rec- 
ommending him  highly ;  so  my  favorable  im- 
pression is  confirmed.  But  you  will  soon  be 
able  to  judge  for  yourselves,  for  I  have  invited 
him  to  supper." 

"  I'm  glad  of  that,  papa.  I  can  always  tell 
in  ten  minutes  whether  or  not  I  shall  like  a 
person ;  and  it's  so  pleasant  to  have  one's  mind 
settled  on  that  point." 


THE   NEW   MINISTEK.  187 

"Papa,"  asked  Bella,  "why  can't  I  teach  a 
school  ?  I  know  my  letters  very  well.  That 
little  mite  of  a  boy  under  the  hill  could  be  in 
my  class." 

This  speech  caused  a  merry  laugh,  which  quite 
disconcerted  the  young  miss,  and  she  added,  in  a 
most  pathetic  voice,  "  Every  body  thinks  I  can't 
do  any  good,  I'm  so  small." 

"  My  precious  little  Bella,  you  do  papa  a 
world  of  good,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Bond,  taking  her 
upon  his  knee,  and  pressing  her  to  his  heart. 

"You,  papa?  Do  you  good?"  inquired  the 
child,  with  astonishment.  "  You  can  read  bet- 
ter than  any  body  out  west." 

"  You  keep  my  heart  warm,  my  dear  one ; 
and  when  I  am  weary  and  discouraged,  I  try  to 
think  of  my  cheerful,  bright  Bella,  and  so  I  feel 
better." 

"  Dear  papa ! "  she  whispered,  putting  her 
small  hand  lovingly  on  his  cheek,  "  I  lov'e  you 
BO  dearly,  I'm  glad  I  do  you  good." 

In  the  afternoon,  just  at  the  hour  the  stranger 


188  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

was  expected,  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door. 
Edward  ran  to  open  it,  while  Emily  whispered 
her  young  friend,  "  Now,  we  can  tell  whether 
he  will  do  for  the  west." 

"  If  your  father  is  not  in,  I  will  call  again," 
said  a  voice  in  the  hall. 

Louise  listened  intently.  She  was  sure  she 
had  heard  the  voice  before.  "  It  would  be 
pleasant,  indeed,  if  the  candidate  should  prove 
an  old  friend." 

"  O,  no,  sir,"  replied  Edward.  "  He  will  be 
back  in  a  few  minutes.  Mother  is  in  here." 

The  young  man  entered.  Mrs.  Bond  rose  to 
welcome  him,  when,  to  the  astonishment  of  all, 
Louise  sprang  forward,  and  eagerly  offered  her 
hand,  exclaiming,  "  Why,  James,  I  thought  you 
far  away  by  this  time ;  but  I  am  very  glad  to 
see  you." 

She  then  introduced  him  to  Mrs.  Bond  and 
Emily  as  the  Mr.  Gannet  of  whom  they  had 
heard  her  speak. 

They   were    hardly    seated    before    Mr.    Bond 


THE   NEW  MINISTER.  189 

entered  with  Mr.  Olmstead,  whom  he  had  over- 
taken on  the  road.  Louise  had  no  opportunity 
to  "  settle  her  mind,"  as  Emily  expressed  it, 
for  James  appeared  embarrassed,  and  kept  his 
seat  near  her,  as  one  he  had  seen  before.  He 
informed  her  that,  on  returning  to  the  place 
which  he  expected  to  purchase,  he  found  that  q 
gentleman  was  already  in  possession,  having 
taken  advantage  of  his  absence  to  conclude  a 
hasty  bargain  with  the  owner.  After  looking 
about  for  some  weeks  in  search  of  another, 
which  would  come  within  his  means,  he  at 
length  thought  of  applying  to  Mr.  Bond,  hoping 
to  be  able  to  locate  in  his  vicinity. 

Louise  manifested  her  interest  by  listening 
attentively  to  the  story  of  his  disappointment, 
and  said  she  knew  Mr.  Bond  would  aid  him  if 
it  were  in  his  power. 

Hearing  his  name  mentioned,  the  gentleman 
came  forward,  assured  James  of  a  hearty  wel- 
come as  long  as  he  wished  to  remain  at  L.,  and 
had  no  doubt  they  could  find  him  a  farm  some-' 


190  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

where  in  the  region.  All  then  adjourned  to 
the  tea  table,  and  the  conversation  became  gen- 
eral. 

Mr.  Olmstead  sat  directly  opposite  Louise,  so 
that  she  could  hardly  help  observing  that  he 
had  a  well-developed  head,  and  though  young, 
was  somewhat  inclined  to  baldness  —  that  his 
eyes  were  keen  and  searching  —  his  nose  of  a 
generous  size  —  his  mouth  expressive  of  great 
firmness.  Before  the  close  of  the  evening  she 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  had  a  vigorous, 
inquiring  mind ;  that  he  gave  his  opinions  frank- 
ly and  independently  of  what  others*  thought, 
and  at  the  same  time  was  good  tempered,  and 
open  to  conviction ;  and  that,  like  Emily,  he  was 
busy  settling  his  mind  with  regard  to  his  new 
friends. 

"  I  never  was  so  puzzled,"  exclaimed  Emily 
impetuously,  the  moment  their  visitor  had  de- 
parted. "  I  can't  tell,  for  the  life  of  me, 
whether  I  like  him  or  not." 

Mr.  Bond  smiled,  as  he  asked  Louise  whether 


THE   NEW   MINISTER.  191 

she  found  the-  same  difficulty  in  solving  the  char- 
acter of  the  young  stranger. 

"  I  think  it  hardly  fair,  sir,"  was  the  reply, 
"  to  judge  one  so  quickly.  One  thing  I  did 
like,  and  that  was,  his  candor  in  admitting  him- 
self to  be  in  the  wrong,  and  you  right,  upon  the 
subject  discussed." 

Early  the  next  day,  Mr.  Bond  introduced 
James  to  a  gentleman  who  was  agent  for  the 
sale  of  land  in  their  vicinity,  and  before  the 
close  of  the  week  the  young  farmer  concluded  a 
purchase,  paying  down  a  part  of  the  price,  and 
giving  a  mortgage  on  the  place  for  the  remain- 
der. He  then  let  himself  to  a  gentleman  in  the 
neighborhood  for  profitable  wages,  until  such 
time  as  he  could  commence  the  building  of  his 
cabin. 

Although  Mr.  Olmstead  had  engaged  a  board- 
ing place  only  three  miles  distant,  yet  the  family 
at  the  parsonage  saw  nothing  more  of  him  until 
the  Sabbath  following.  Emily,  Louise,  Joseph, 
and  Edward  were  teaching  in  their  most  flourish- 


192  TRYING    TO    BE    USEFUL. 

ing  Sabbath  school,  when  he  walked  in,  and 
annoyed  Louise  greatly  by  taking  a  seat  near 
her,  to  listen  to  her  mode  of  instruction.  He 
presently,  however,  perceived  her  embarrassment, 
and  withdrew  to  another  part  of  the  room.  After 
some  practical  remarks  at  the  close  of  the  school, 
he  expressed  his  pleasure  to  Emily  at  the  meet- 
ing, and  his  delight  at  finding  her  so  ready  for 
every  good  work. 

"  I  promised  Dr.  Morrison  to  come  here  regu- 
larly during  his  absence,"  answered  the  young 
girl ;  "  but  now  I  shall  give  up  my  charge  to 
you." 

"  You  think  far  too  highly  of  my  capabilities 
if  you  suppose  I  can  fill  the  places  of  four  teach- 
ers," rejoined  the  gentleman,  gravely. 

"  O,  you  must  preach  upon  the  subject,  and 
interest  the  people  of  your  own  congregation." 

Mr.  Olmstead  bowed,  as  he  replied,  "  We  will 
discuss  the  matter  more  fully  at  your  father's 
house,  if  you  will  give  me  permission." 

"  If   you    please,    sir.       We    have    two    more 


THE   NEW  MINISTER.  193 

schools  this  afternoon,  and  I  fear  we  shall  be 
behind  our  time.  Will  you  come  with  us? 
We  have  a  class  of  adults  for  you." 

"  With  all  my  heart,  if  you'll  promise  not  to 
leave  those  also  in  my  charge  ?  " 

Louise  smiled,  as  she  met  an  arch  glance  from 
the  young  clergyman,  and  asked,  "  Do  you  fear 
responsibility  ?  " 

The  distance  to  the  log  cabin,  where  the  next 
school  was  convened,  was  rather  more  than  a 
mile;  but  the  road  was  very  rough,  and  as  Mr. 
Olmstead  occupied  the  front  seat  with  Joseph 
and  Edward,  there  could  be  no  conversation. 
This  was  a  new  enterprise,  and  the  order  not 
fully  established.  Emily  was  right  glad  to  have 
some  one  who  could  open  the  school  with  prayer, 
and  of  sufficient  age  to  command  respect,  as  some 
of  the  boys  were  very  unruly  and  troublesome. 
She  detained  him  a  moment  at  the  door  to  tell 
him  this,  and  to  request  him  to  divide  the  classes 
as  he  thought  proper. 

There  was  an  unusual  number  present  The 
13 


194  TRYING   TO   BE    USEFUL. 

gentleman  soon  convinced  the  young  teachers 
that  he  was  equal  to  the  occasion,  and  that  his 
whole  soul  was  engaged  in  his  work.  After 
some  slight  alterations  in  the  arrangement,  the 
regular  lessons  were  recited  and  explained,  and 
then  Mr.  Olmstead  made  a  solemn  and  impres- 
sive address  to  them,  when  there  was  scarcely  a 
dry  eye  in  the  room.  He  declined,  however, 
Emily's  urgent  invitation  to  accompany  them 
still  farther,  as  he  had  appointed  a  meeting  in 
the  church  where  he  was  supplying. 

No  one  capable  of  working  was  allowed  long 
to  remain  idle  in  Mr.  Bond's  society,  and  James 
was  soon  urged  to  take  a  class  in  one  or  more 
schools.  He  hesitated,  lest  he  were  not  quali- 
fied ;  hut  as  his-  pastor  found  he  had  received 
a  good  English  education,  and  his  heart  was 
warm  with  love  to  Christ,  he  would  not  excuse 
him. 

Several  weeks  had  now  passed  since  the  ar- 
rival of  Mr.  Olmstead,  and  by  the  assistance  of 
Mr.  Bond  a  more  regular  system  of  instruction 


THE   NEW   MINISTER.  195 

than  had  heretofore  been  practicable,  had  been 
established.  The  young  clergyman  had  found 
recruits  enough  in  his  congregation  to  teach  in 

the  schools  within  the  bounds  of  his  own  parish. 
y 

This  afforded  a  great  relief  to  the  young  teach- 
ers, who  were  thus  enabled  to  devote  more  time 
to  those  still  in  their  care.  In  addition  to  the 
hour  set  apart  for  teaching,  Mr.  Bond  agreed 
with  his  young  friend,  that  half  an  hour  passed 
in  exhortation,  singing,  and  prayer,  might  be  the 
means  of  great  good,  and  he  readily  consented 
to  take  his  turn  in  the  service. 

During  all  this  time,  Louise  heard  frequently 
from  her  friends  in  New  England.  The  last  let- 
ter from  her  mother  informed  her  that  a  daugh- 
ter of  her  oldest  brother  had  gratefully  accepted 

a  home  in  their  family,  and  proved  a  very  agree-_ 

v 
able  companion.     Agnes  had  gone  to  the  city  to 

attend  school,  while  Mr.  Shepard  had  hired  a 
young  lady  to  teach  Phebe,  Ellen,  and  Lucy. 
A  room  was  fitted  up  in  Mr.  Shepard's  house, 
and  the  young  girls  seemed  to  improve  rapidly 


196  TEYING   TO   BE    USEFUL. 

under  their  new  teacher.  In  a  former  letter,  her 
father  said  that  her  little  favorite,  Benny,  was 
failing  rapidly  in  strength ;  but  his  mind  grew 
more  and  more  mature,  and  his  childish  piety 
was  apparent  in  all  his  actions.  "  He  often 
speaks  of  you,"  added  her  father,  "  and  begs 
me  to  write  you  to  come  home." 

In  reply,  Louise  printed  a  short  letter  to  her 
young  friend,  in  which  she  gave  him  an  account 
of  a  boy  in  one  of  her  Sabbath  classes,  who  had 
no  mother  or  friend  to  tell  him  about  God ; 
that,  until  within  a  few  weeks,  he  had  never 
heard  the  name  of  Christ.  She  asked  Benny  if 
it  was  not  her  duty  to  stay  and  teach  him  to 
read  the  Bible,  that  he  might  learn  the  way  to 
heaven.  She  concluded  her  letter  -  by  begging 
him  to  pray  for  the  poor  ignorant  children  at 
the  west,  and  to  pray  for  her,  that  she  might 
do  all  in  her  power  to  enlighten  them. 

This  letter"  she  enclosed  in  one  to  her  father, 
and  it  proved  a  great  comfort  to  the  sick  child. 
He  read  it  many  times  every  day,  and  scarce 


THE   NEW   MINISTER.  197 

ever,  as  his  mother  told  the  doctor,  without  an 
audible  prayer  for  the  poor  children  who  didn't 
know  about  Jesus  Christ.  Much  as  he  longed 

X 

to  see  Louise,  he  could  never  after  be  persuaded 
to  say  he  wished  she  would  come  home ;  but 
when,  toward  the  spring,  he  became  conscious 
that  he  was  soon  to  die,  he  sent  her  many  mes- 
sages of  love,  adding  that  he  hoped  to  meet  her, 
and  all  the  poor  children  at  the  west,  in  the 
heavenly  home  to  which  God  was  taking  him. 


198  TRYING   TO   BE    USEFUL. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE     QUILTING     PARTY. 

Coasting.  —  Studies.  —  Letter  from  Louise  to  her  Parents.  — 
The  intended  Wedding.  —  Preparations  for  it. — The  merry 
Party.  —  The  bountiful  Repast.  —  Plays  and  Games. 

IT  was  now  midwinter.  Mr.  Bond  and  his 
good  wife  had  not  forgotten  the  duties  of  hos- 
pitality they  owe'd  their  young  guest.  Many  a 
fine  ride  had  she  enjoyed  on  the  smoothly  frozen 
ground,  and  many  a  merry  coast  with  the  young 
people,  when  their  lessons  for  the  day  were 
completed.  Joseph  and  Edward  passed  the  en- 
tire morning  in  their  father's  study,  while  little 
Bella  was  under  her  mother's  tuition.  Of  late, 
indeed,  Louise  had  begged  the  privilege  of  hear- 
ing the  dear  child  read  and  spell,  and  was  even 
giving  her  lessons  in  writing  upon  her  tiny  por- 
celain slate,  while,  in  return,  Mrs.  Bond  taught 


THE    QUILTING   PARTY.  199 

her  guest  some  of  the  culinary  arts,  and  imparted 
lessons  in  practical  economy. 

Emily  was  perfectly  untiring  in  her  energy, 
but  she  preferred,  accompanying  her  father  in 
his  parochial  visits,  or  riding  horseback  to  the 
nuighboring  town  for  the  family  stores.  About 
this  time  Louise  accepted  an  invitation  to  a  large 
quilting  party,  an  account  of  which  she  gave  her 
parents  in  her  next  letter. 

"  BELOVED  PARENTS : 

"  I  have  just  returned  from  a  long  walk,  in 
company  with  Mr.  Bond  and  Emily.  You  would 
be  quite  encouraged  concerning  my  health  could 
you  see  my  rosy  cheeks.  My  friends  say  I  am 
growing  quite  western  in  my  looks  and  manners. 
However  that  may  be,  I  can  say  that  I  am  very 
happy,  though  I  love  my  dear  home  and  home 
friends  as  well  as  ever. 

"  On  our  return  we  met  James  Gannet,  and 
went  with  him  to  select  a  site  for  his  new 
house.  He  is  a  fine  young  man,  and  a  great 


200  TRYING    TO    BE    USEFUL. 

favorite  with,  all  of  us,  though  Bella  claims   him 
especially  as  her  own  Jamie. 

"  But  I  have  devoted  this  letter  to  giving  you 
an  account  of  a  quilting  party  to  which  I  was 
lately  invited.  One  of  the  singers  in  our  choir 
(you  see  I  say  our)  is  soon  to  be  married ;  and 
in  accordance  with  the  custom  here,  her  young 
friends  have  given  her  two  handsome  patch-work 
spreads,  which  they  met  together  to  quilt  in 
readiness  for  the  wedding.  Of  course,  Emily 
and  I  had  done  our  part,  and  were  among  the 
first  to  be  present.  The  frames  were  spread  out 
in  the  large,  sunny  kitchen,  and  were  to  be  com- 
pleted before  the  supper  could  be  served.  It 
was  but  little  past  noon  when  a  merry  party  of 
twelve  girls  sat  down  to  their  work,  determined 
to  see  which  could  accomplish  the  greatest  num- 
ber of  rows.  Four  more  soon  joined  us,  being 
quite  as  many  as  could  work  conveniently  at  a 
time.  I  still  hear  the  hum  of  their  voices,  and 
the  pleasant  laugh  echoed  from  one  and  another, 
while  the  needles  never  ceased  their  employment, 


THE    QUILTING   PARTY.  201 

but  worked  swiftly  up  and  down,  in  and  out, 
along  the  chalked  line.  In  accordance  with  my 
taste,  one  of  them  was  marked  in  the  shell  pat- 
tern, and  was  abundantly  admired. 

"Toward  night,  the  gentlemen  began  to  drop 
in,  one  by  one,  and  were  kept  from  mischief  by 
threading  the  needles,  or  holding  lamps  near  the 
work.  At  six  o'clock,  the  young  girls,  with  a 
shout,  announced  the  business  completed ;  and 
then  what  a  buzz  of  voices,  as  the  stitches  were 
cut,  the  quilts  shaken  out,  and  the  frames  carried 
to  the  chamber  in  the  loft  !  About  half  the 
misses  then  adjourned  to  the  parlor  to  entertain 
themselves  and  the  young  men,  while  the  other 
half  proceeded  to  sweep  from  the  painted  floor 
the  refuse  cotton  and  shreds,  and  to  lay  the 
long  tables  for  supper.  This  proved  truly  a 
most  bountiful  meal,  consisting  of  roast  turkey, 
chicken  pie,  and  bacon,  followed  by  an  innumer- 
able variety  of  cakes,  tarts,  and  pies.  The  con- 
suming of  all  this  food  occupied  some  time,  as 
you  can  readily  suppose ;  then  came  the  clearing 


202  TRYING   TO   BE    USEFUL. 

off,  which  was  much  more  quickly  accomplished ; 
the  young  ladies  washing  the  plates  and  cups, 
while  the  gentlemen  brought  them  from  the 
table  and  carried  them  to  the  cupboard,  amid 
merry  shouts  at  the  awkwardness  of  some,  and 
the  constant  running  together  of  all.  .After 
order  was  restored,  the  remainder  of  the  evening 
was  passed  in  playing  different  games,  some  of 
which  were  very  amusing. 

"  Just  in  the  midst  of  a  play,  when  a  young 
miss  had  been  entrapped  into  the  repetition  of  a 
word  she  was  anxious  to  avoid,  and  the  mirth 
in  consequence  was  somewhat  boisterous,  a  sleigh 
was  heard  to  drive  to  the  door,  and,  to  my 
astonishment,  Mr.  Bond  and  Mr.  Olmstead  walked 
in.  The  surprise  I  felt  did  not  affect  the  others, 
for  they  were  accustomed  to  see  their  minister 
in  such  scenes,  and  welcomed  him  with  great 
cordiality.  One  and  another  of  the  girls  clung 
around  him,  and  begged  him  to  propose  some 
amusement  in  which  he  would  unite.  Mr.  Olm- 
stead, being,  like  myself,  somewhat  more  of  a 


THE    QUILTING    PARTY.  203 

stranger,  took  a  seat  by  me,  when  I  began  to 
comment  upon  the  character  of  my  good  host, 
the  influence  he  possessed  over  almost  every 
class  of  persons,  and  the  use  he  made  of  it  for 
good.  '  Now,  here,'  said  I,  '  are  quite  a  company 
of  young  people  expecting  to  have  a  merry  time  ; 
yet  see  how  they  welcome  him.'  Just  then  I 
heard  a  girl  shouting,  '  O,  do,  Mr.  Bond ;  you 
always  know  such  nice  games.' 

"  We  were  soon  seated  in  a  circle.  Our  good 
pastor  pleasantly  responded  to  the  call,  and  said 
he  had  thought  of  a  word  which  he  should  con- 
ceal until,  by  his  description,  it  were  guessed 
by  some  one.  The  word  had  several  significa- 
tions. If  any  persons  thought  they  had  discov- 
ered it,  they  were  called  upon  to  add  minute- 
ness to  his  description. 

"  Looking  around  the  room,  he  said,  '  I  see 
an  article  here ;  indeed  there  are  several  of  them. 
They  are  very  important  to  our  comfort.  I 
hardly  know  how  we  could  get  along  without 
them.' 


204  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

" '  I  think  I  have  guessed  it,'  I  exclaimed, 
after  a  shdrt  pause,  laughing  at  the  absorbed 
manner  in  which  many  of  the  girls  were  follow- 
ing the  gaze  of  Mr.  Bond  at  the  ceiling  and 
walls  of  the  apartment.  *  Let  us  hear  what  you 
think  of  it,  then,'  was  his  reply. 

"'I  think  it  very  much  to  be  dreaded.' 

"  '  Good  !  capital ! '  shouted  Mr.  Olmstead,  who 
was  also  in  the  secret.  '  I  hope,  Miss  Merton, 
you  will  never  be  more  under  its  power  than 
at  the  present  moment.' 

"  '  Sometimes,'  added  the  good  pastor,  '  it 
brings  light,  and  at  others  gloom  and  sorrow ; 
and  it  is  always  a  comfort  and  a  blessing.' 

"  '  What  can  it  be  ?  I  can  never  guess,'  was 
repeated  and  echoed  until  Mr.  Bond  asked, 
'  What  is  pleasanter  than  a  clear  pane  of  glass 
through  which  we  behold  the  sun;  and  what  is 
more  to  be  dreaded  than  pain  1 '  spelling  the 
word." 


THE   FATAL    COAST.  205 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE      FATAL      COAST. 

The  dreadful  Accident.  —  Anguish  of  the  Parents.  —  Sympa- 
thy of  Friends.  —  Remorse  of  poor  Edward.  —  The  Fu- 
neral. 

LOUISE  had  scarcely  sent  her  letter  ere  she 
was  called  to  write  one  of  a  far  different  char- 
acter. The  very  week  succeeding  her  visit  de- 
scribed above,  found  the  inmates  of  L.  parson- 
age overwhelmed  with  sorrow.  She  relates  the 
painful  scenes  in  which  she  was  called  to  par- 
ticipate in  the  following  letter :  — 

"  0,  my  dear  mother  !  Your  kind  heart  would 
bleed  with  sympathy,  could  you  enter  this 
dwelling,  so  lately  the  abode  of  joy  and  hope. 
I  can  hardly  guide  my  pen  as  I  write  the  sor- 
rowful tidings.  Yesterday  morning  there  was  a 
fine  bracing  air,  and  Mr.  Bond  bade  us  improve 


206  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

it  to  take  a  fine  coast  down  the  hill.  We 
started  off"  directly  after  breakfast,  so  as  to  have 
the  company  of  the  boys,  before  their  study 
hours.  Darling  little  Bella  was  the  merriest  of 
the  whole  troop,  and  sang  gayly  as  she  rode 
along  upon  Joseph's  sled. 

"  After  staying  out  half  an  hour,  my  feet, 
which  were  not  sufficiently  guarded,  became  very 
cold,  and  Emily  returned  with  me  to  the  house. 
Joseph  overtook  us,  so  that  Edward  alone  was 
left  with  Bella.  I  thought  Joseph  ought  to  go 
back ;  but  he  and  Emily  both  laughed  at  the 
idea  of  any  danger  to  the  little  one ;  so  I  went 
on,  though  with  such  great  reluctance  that 
Joseph  added,  *  Edward  has  only  fifteen  minutes 
longer  to  stay,  any  how ;  and  I  dare  say  before 
that,  Bella  will  want  to  come  home.' 

"  I  went  directly  to  Mrs.  Bond,  before  I  took 
off  my  hood,  and  told  her  that,  Eddy  and  Bella 
had  staid  behind  ;  adding  that,  if  she  did  not 
think  he  would  take  good  care  of  her,  I  would 
return  at  once  to  the  hill.  Emily  laughed  as 


THE   FATAL    COAST.  207 

she  exclaimed,  '  I  wouldn't  be  always  worrying, 
as  Louise  is,  for  the  world.  Bell  is  old  enough 
to  learn  to  take  care  of  herself.'  Mrs.  Bond 
looked  at  the  clock,  and  replied  that  she  was 
quite  sure  Edward  would  not  stay  out  beyond 
his  time,  as  his  father  was  very  particular  about 
their  hours.  She  gave  me  a  kiss  for  my  care  of 
her  child,  as  I  turned  to  go  to  my  room.  I  sat 
one  moment  by  the  parlor  fire  to  warm  my 
feet,  and  then  went  up  stairs ;  but  I  had  hardly 
taken  off  my  cloak,  before  I  heard  a  dreadful 
scream.  I  ran  to  the  window,  and  saw  JJdward 
almost  flying  toward  the  house,  his  arms 
stretched  over  his  head  as  if  he  were  beside 
himself.  I  threw  up  the  sash,  and  screamed, 
'Where's  Bella?  O,  where's  Bella?' 

"  He  began  to  cry  aloud ;  but  in  the  midst  of 
his  cry,  I  caught  at  the  words,  '  Bella's  dead ! 
O,  dear,  Bella  is  drowned  ! ' 

"  Hardly  knowing  what  I  did,  I  snatched  a 
shawl,  threw  it  over  my  head,  flew  down  to  the 
study,  and  screamed,  '  Mr.  Bond,  O,  come  quick.' 


208  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

Then  I  ran  as  for  my  life  toward  the  fatal  spot. 
Swiftly  as  I  ran,  the  poor  father  reached  it  be- 
fore I  did.  » 

"Just. at  the  foot  of  the  hill  is  a  small  val-' 
ley,  which,  in  winter,  is  two  or  three  feet 
deep  with  water.  Joseph,  in  guiding  our  sled, 
had  avoided  this  place,  as  he  feared  the  ice  was 
not  strong  enough  to  bear  us.  After  we  left, 
Edward  thought  he  would  have  one  splendid 
coast,  and  then  come  home.  Bella  sat  on  the 
back  part  of  the  sled,  and  either  from  not 
remembering,  or  not  fearing  the  danger,  down 
he  went  directly  into  the  pond. 

"He  can  remember  nothing  more,  only  that 
he  heard  a  dreadful  scream  as  his  little  sister 
sank  under  the  ice.  By  the  time  Mr.  Bond  had 
taken  the  body  from  the  water,  the  whole  family 
had  reached  the  place.  The  poor  mother  shed 
not  a  tear,  but  bade  Joseph  run  back  and  tell 
Ruth  to  heat  the  boiler  full  of  water.  Mr.  Bond 
stopped  but  one  moment,  put  his  ear  to  the 
child's  heart,  called  out,  '  My  precious  Bella,' 


THE    FATAL    COAST.  209 

took  off  his  study  gown  and  wrapped  her  in  it, 
holding  her  closely  to  his  bosom,  and  ran  all 
the  way  home.  Poor  Emily  was  almost  wild, 
and  began  to  upbraid  Edward  as  the  cause  of 
Bella's  death. 

"  The  little  fellow  said  not  one  word  to  ex- 
cuse himself,  but  continued  to  sob  most  bitterly ; 
until,  at  length,  he  came  to  my  side,  and  look- 
ing in  my  face  with  his  poor  swollen  eyes,  he 
asked,  '  Don't  you  think  she  will  ever  come 
to?' 

"  On  our  way  home  a  messenger  was  sent  to 
summon  a  physician ;  but,  before  he  came,  all 
effort  had  been  abandoned  as  fruitless.  The 
vital  spark  had  fled,  and  only  He  who  called 
Lazarus  to  life  had  power  to  bring  it  back.  It 
was  all  in  vain  that  warm  baths  and  constant 
friction  were  applied,  together  with  all  other 
means  to  resuscitate  a  drowning  person.  It  was 
all  in  vain  that  the  almost  distracted  father 
breathed  into  the  motionless  lungs,  and  called  in 
the  most  piteous  accents,  '  Bella,  papa's  own 
14 


210  TETING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

Bella,  can't  you  speak  once  more  to  poor 
papa  ? '  While  there  was  any  thing  to  be  done, 
he  controlled  himself;  but  as  hope  of  her  re- 
covery grew  fainter  and  fainter,  it  was  fearful  to 
witness  his  agonizing  grief.  I  think  his  wife  was 
becoming  really  alarmed.  She  touched  his  arm, 
and  said,  gently,  '  Robert,  let  us  remember  who 
sent  this  affliction.' 

"  He  caught  her  hand,  and  cried  out,  '  O  Mary, 
how  can  I  give  her  up  ?  How  can  I  live  with- 
out her  ?  Do,  do  entreat  God  for  me  ! '  and  he 
rushed  away,  and  locked  himself  in  his  study. 

"  No  one  but  his  wife  saw  him  until  this 
morning.  She  does  not  weep.  She  told  me  to- 
day she  dared  not  give  way  for  a  moment ;  but 
she  looks  as  if  ten  years  of  sorrow  had  passed 
over  her  since  yesterday  morning.  I  should 
have  supposed  that,  in  any  similar  case,  she 
would  have  broken  down,  while  he  would  be 
calm,  and  the  support  of  all  the  others;  but 
Emily,  who  is  very  like  him,  says  he  was  just 
so  when  his  other  children  died.  The  poor  girl 


THE   FATAL    COAST.  211 

is  almost  heart-broken.  '  As  to  Edward,  I  know 
not  how  to  describe  his  sorrow.  He  feels  that 
all  the  family  blame  him,  and  he  is  ready  to  re- 
proach himself  as  the  cause  of  his  sister's  death. 
At  the  same  time,  he  most  keenly  feels  her  loss ; 
for,  being  nearly  the  same  age,  they  were  con- 
stantly together,  when  he  was  not  occupied  with 
his  lessons. 

"  As  for  myself,  this  dreadful  affliction  has 
seemed  to  bring  back  to  me  our  dear  Sarah's 
loss.  I  can  truly  sympathize  with  my  kind 
friends.  All  night  long  I  scarcely  shut  my  eyes, 
and  this  morning  my  pallor  so  alarmed  Mr. 
Bond  that  he  spoke  to  me  after  prayers,  asking 
whether  I  were  ill.  All  the  reply  I  could 
make  was  a  burst  of  tears,  as  I  pointed  into  the 
room  where  lay  the  precious  little  form,  shrouded 
for  the  tomb.  He  turned  quickly  away,  with  a 
sob  of  anguish,  but  returned  presently,  took  my 
hands  convulsively,  as  he  said,  '  You  do  truly 
obey  the  Scripture  which  saith,  "  Weep  with 
those  that  weep."  ' 


212  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

"Our  friends  have  been  very  kind  and  sym- 
pathizing. Poor  James  was  almost  inconsolable 
when  he  found  he  could  never  hear  that  sweet 
voice  again.  Mr.  Olmstead  came  to  us  directly, 
as  soon  as  he  heard  the  mournful  tidings,  hoping, 
until  he  reached  here,  that  they  had  been  much 
exaggerated.  He  has  been  a  great  comfort  to 
the  poor  bereaved  mother,  and  she  seems  glad 
to  have  any  one  upon  whom  she  can  lean.  He 
has  made  all  the  necessary  arrangements  for  the 
funeral,  which  is  to-morrow,  and  told  me  to-day 
he  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  some  pretty 
white  flowers  to  lay  around  the  precious  little 
head.  Mrs.  Bond  told  him  she  and  her  hus- 
band wished  him  to  officiate  at  the  funeral ;  but 
he  shook  his  head  as  he  replied  that  he  would 
send  for  any  one  else  they  might  name,  but  he 
was  too  much  of  a  mourner.  He  dared  not 
trust  himself,  for  fear  he  could  not  get  through 
the  service.  He  was  present  this  afternoon, 
when  I  assisted  Mrs.  Bond  to  cut  off  some  of 
the  beautiful  golden  ringlets.  After  gazing  at 


THE   FATAL    COAST.  213 

/ 

us  silently  for  some  minutes,  he  turned  suddenly 
to  the  window,  and  I  saw  him  wipe  his  eyes 
again  and  again.  '  O,  no  one  ever  saw  thee, 
darling  Bella,  but  to  love  thee;  and  now  thou 
art  at  rest ! ' 

"  This  afternoon  her  mother  related  many 
anecdotes  of  her  truthfulness,  and  her  earnest 
desire  to  do  right.  When  any  thing  was  pro- 
posed, she  would  ask,  '  Is  it  right  ?  are  we  sure 
it  is  right,  and  that  God  likes  us  to  do  it  ? ' 
Mrs.  Bond  says  the  thought  that  her  child  is 
with  the  Saviour,  and  will  forever  dwell  in  his 
embrace,  is  the  one  which  sustains  her.  She 
will  not  allow  her  mind  to  ^rest  upon  any  other. 
It  is  very  affecting  to  me  to  see  how  she  tries 
to  bear  up  for  her  husband  and  children.  She 
is  more  tender  to  Edward  than  to  either  of  the 
others,  and  wished  me  to  try  to  soothe  him ; 
but  if  any  one  speaks  at  all  tenderly  to  him, 
his  grief  bursts  out  afresh,  and  he  cries,  '  O, 
don't!  I  can't  bear  it !  I  did  it  all ! '  " 


214  TRYING   TO    BE   USEFUL. 

Two  days  later  she  writes,  — 

"  I  did  not  finish  my  letter,  for  I  wished  to 
give  you  an  account  of  the  funeral.  Just  as  we 
were  going  to  the  church,  James  Gannet  came 
running  in  at  the  back  door,  all  out  of  hreath, 
and  gave  me  a  small  box,  saying  he  hoped  he  was 
not  too  late.  He  had  been  three  miles  on  foot, 
to  get  some  white  buds  from  a  house  where  he 
had  seen  them  in  the  window,  and  told  the  lady 
he  must  have  them  at  any  price.  Mr.  Olmstead 
went  back  with  me  and  opened  the  coffin,  when 
I  placed  them  in  the  small  marble  hand.  '  Dear 
Bella,  this  is  our  last  offering  ! ' 

"  Mr.  Bond  was  much  more  calm  than  I  ex- 
pected to  see  him;  but  his  whole  frame  shook 
as  he  bent  over  the  pale  form,  and  pressed  his 
farewell  kiss  upon  the  white  forehead.  His  wife 
looked  as  if  she  were  about  to  faint.  This  took 
his  thoughts  from  his  own  grief,  and  I  was  glad 
to  see  that,  for  the  first  lime  since  the  over- 
whelming event,  she  wept  freely. 

"  The   service   was   most   solemn  and   impres- 


THE   FATAL    COAST.  215 

sive.  The  clergyman,  whose  name  was  Miles, 
read  some  very  appropriate  passages  of  Scripture, 
and  to  me,  at  least,  the  words  came  with  power. 
After  tea,  Mr.  Bond  talked  with  the  children 
freely,  as  he  had  not  done  before,  and  said  he 
hoped  now  he  could  say  from  the  heart,  '  The 
will  of  the  Lord  be  done  ;  '  '  the  Lord  gave,  and 
the  Lord  hath  taken  away ;  blessed  be  the  name 
of  the  Lord  ; '  '  that  no  chastening  was  for  the 
present  joyous  —  but  grievous  ; '  but  it  was  his 
prayer  that  with  him,  his  wife  and  children,  it 
might  '  yield  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteous- 
ness.' 

"  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  before  going  to 
church,  Mr.  Olmstead  asked  me  to  walk  in  the 
procession  with  him.  I  thanked  him,  but  said, 
'  I  feel  it  to  be  my  mission  to  soothe  poor  Ed- 
ward, and  I  cannot  leave  him  alone.' 

"  '  You  are  right,'  he  replied ;  and  he  walked 
behind  us,  arm  in  arm  with  James." 


216  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE     NEW     SCHOOL. 

Dismissal  of  Dr.  Morrison.  —  "Wishes  of  his   Church. —Mr. 
Olmstead's  Declinature. —  His  Call  at  the  Parsonage. 

ONE  day  Mr.  Bond  received  a  letter  dated 
New  York  city.  This  he  read  carefully,  and 
passed  to  his  wife,  saying,  "  From  our  good 
friend  Dr.  Morrison,  my  dear." 

This  letter  was  in  answer  to  a  communication 
made  through  Mr.  Bond,  from  the  church  in 
Morristown,  over  which  he  was  pastor.  The 
preceding  year  a  body  of  clergymen  throughout 
the  state  had  met  in  conference  with  regard  to 
a  school  of  theology,  to  be  founded  in  some 
favorable  locality  within  the  state,  to  obviate  the 
necessity  of  sending  their  young  men  to  the 
East  for  an  education.  As  the  churches  to 
which  these  gentlemen  belonged  were  most  of 


THE   NEW   SCHOOL.  217 

them  young,  and  unable  to  give  much  toward 
the  new  enterprise,  they  consulted  with  reference 
to  a  suitable  person  to  present  the  object  to  their 
friends  in  the  Eastern  States.  Their  choice  fell 
upon  Dr.  Morrison.  He  was  a  gentleman  of 
rare  qualifications  for  the  work,  being  both  sound 
in  judgment  and  uncommonly  pleasing  in  his 
address.  In  addition  to  these  advantages,  he 
was  thoroughly  convinced  of  the  necessity  of  a 
Theological  Seminary  to  educate  western  men 
fpr  western  churches,  and  had  therefore  the  suc- 
cess of  the  enterprise  deeply  at  heart.  But  it 
was  no  easy  matter  to  gain  his  consent  to  such 
a  proposition.  He  was  delightfully  situated  in 
a  rapidly  increasing  town,  where  the  great  facili- 
ties, both  by  water  and  other  communication, 
with  large  cities,  bade  fair  to  raise  it  to  a  position 
of  great  importance.  His  church  was  flourish- 
ing and  united,  and  he  felt  satisfied  that  the 
work  was  prospering  in  his  hands.  He  hoped 
to  spend  and  be  spent  for  his  people  —  to  live 
and  die  among  them;  and  it  required  no  little 


218  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 

% 

sacrifice  on  his  part  to  leave  them,  even  for  the 
year  or  two  his  brethren  in  the  ministry  supposed 
might  be  necessary  to  raise  the  requisite  funds. 

But  at  length  the  entreaties  of  his  friends, 
and  a  fear  lest  if  he  refused  he  might  be  found 
to  be  fighting  against  God,  prevailed.  He  took 
an  aifectionate  leave  of  his  people, '  and  started 
for  New  England,  accompanied  by  his  wife  and 
daughter,  who  intended  to  pass  the  time  with 
their  relatives  in  Connecticut.  He  had  been 
absent  six  months,  and  his  pulpit  supplied  by 
different  individuals,  when,  at  the  request  of  his 
church,  he  sent  a  young  graduate,  in  the  person 
of  Mr.  Olmstead,  to  occupy  till  he  came. 

It  was  now  the  first  of  March.  Dr.  Morrison 
wrote  the  committee,  of  whom  Mr.  Bond  was 
chairman,  that  the  labor  of  raising  so  large  a 
sum  as  was  considered  necessary  for  the  found- 
ing of  a  Theological  Seminary  was  likely  to  prove 
much  greater  than  he  or  they  had  supposed. 
He  had  been  successful ;  perhaps,  considering 
the  vast. number  of  benevolent  objects  before  the 


THE    NEW    SCHOOL.  219 

churches,  eminently  so ;  but  still  it  would  be  a 
work  of  time.  The  affairs  of  his  own  congrega- 
tion pressed  heavily  upon  his  spirits,  and  he 
asked  advice  of  his  respected  friend  whether  it 
would  not  be  better  for  him  to  request  a  disso- 
lution of  the  relation  between  them,  in  order 
that  they  might  call  another  pastor,  and  not  be 
subjected  to  the  trials  of  their  present  unsettled 
condition. 

After  much  painful  thought  and  prayerful 
meditation,  Mr.  Bond  answered,  that  it  would 
be  best  for  Dr.  Morrison  to  ask  a  dismission 
from  his  people.  The  letter  he  now  received 
was  accompanied  by  a  formal  request  to  his 
church  and  parish  for  such  a  dismissal. 

For  this  the  people  of  Morristown  were  not 
wholly  unprepared.  Mr.  Bond  had  communicated 
to  their  committee  the  subject  of  the  preceding 
letter,  and  consulted  with  them  as  to  the  answer 
he  should  make,  so  that  they  had  gradually 
made  up  their  minds  for  the  result.  In  the  ab- 
sence of  their  pastor,  they  had  become  very 


220  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

much,  attached  to  Mr.  Olmstead ;  indeed,  the 
church  had  considerably  increased  since  his  resi- 
dence among  them ;  so.  that,  if  he  would  accept 
their  call,  they  would  accede  to  the  wishes  of 
their  beloved  pastor  with  greater  unanimity  than 
a  year  before  they  could  have  considered  possible. 
On  many  accounts  the  continued  absence  of 
Dr.  Morrison  was  painful  to  Mr.  Bond.  They 
had  labored  together  for  many  years,  had  sym- 
pathized fully  in  their  religious  sentiments,  while 
between  their  families  there  had  grown  up  a 
friendship  most  close  and  intimate.  To  be  sure, 
no  distance  could  separate  such  friends,  as  the 
afflicted  members  of  the  L.  parsonage  had  reason 
to  know,  when  soon  after  their  late  loss  came 
letters  breathing  the  most  tender  sympathy  and 
the  warmest  affection  from  those  who  were 
keenly  afflicted  in  their  affliction.  Still  the  good 
clergyman  was  sure  his  beloved  brother  was  in 
the  path,  of  duty,  and  would  not  present  one 
personal  motive  to  induce  him  to  swerve  from 
it.  The  longer  he  was  acquainted  with  the 


THE   NEW   SCHOOL.  221 

young  candidate,  the  more  fully  was  he  convinced 
of  the  wisdom  of  extending  to  him  a  call  to  the 
vacant  place,  though  he  well  knew  Mr.  Olmstead 
had  never  contemplated  even  the  possibility  of 
such  a  result  of  his  engagement.  Indeed,  the 
young  man  had  frequently  remarked  that  it  was 
his  intention  to  return  to  the  east,  and  pass 
another  year  in  theological  study ;  that  one 
need  to  begin  to  preach  in  order  to  find  out 
his  own  ignorance. 

The  week  following  the  dissolution  of  the  re- 
lation between  Dr.  Morrison  and  his  church, 
two  gentlemen  called  iipon  their  kind  friend  Mr. 
Bond,  to  confer  with  him  in  relation  to  their 
next  step.  The  visit  was  protracted  to  a  late 
hour ;  but  it  is  unnecessary  to  enter  into  a  de- 
tailed account  of  it.  The  pastor  advised  them 
to  proceed  with  caution,  as  Mr.  Olmstead  was 
wholly  unconscious  of  their  wishes  concerning 
him,  and  he  would  open  the  subject  to  the 
young  man. 

This  was    done    at    the    first    favorable  oppor- 


222  TRYING   TO    BE   USEFUL, 

tunity,  when  Mr.  Olmstead  promptly  declined 
favoring  such  a  movement.  He  thought  himself 
too  young  and  inexperienced  to  take  so  respon- 
sible a  situation;  and  when  this  objection  was 
partly  obviated,  he  said  plainly  that  he  was  not 
prepared  to  entertain  the  question.  He  con- 
sented to  remain  a  few  weeks,  possibly  some 
months,  longer,  on  condition  that  it  should  be 
understood  he  was  not  a  candidate  for  settle- 
ment. 

Mf .  Bond  repeated  the  substance  of  this  conver- 
sation to  his  family,  and  expressed  his  disap- 
pointment at  the  young  clergyman's  decision. 
He  noticed  a  quick  glance  given  by  Emily  to 
her  friend  Louise,  whose  face  was  covered  with 
blushes,  and  for  the  first  time  the  thought  oc- 
curred to  him  that  she  might  be  the  cause  of 
Mr.  Olmstead's  hesitation.  But  he  could  call 
to  mind  no  circumstance  to  favor  such  an  opin- 
ion, and  the  idea  was  banished  from  his  mind. 
Not  many  hours  passed,  however,  before  a  call 
from  the  gentleman  in  question  gave  him  an 


THE   NEW   SCHOOL.  223 

opportunity  to  watch  for  any  confirmation  of 
such  an  opinion.  Mr.  Olmstead  was  cordially 
received  by  all  the  family.  He  then  seated 
himself  by  Emily,  and  engaged  her  in  a  brisk 
conversation,  while  the  eyes  of  Louise  seemed 
fastened  upon  her  work,  and  she  never  spoke 
except  when  personally  addressed  by  one  of 
them. 

"  If  there  be  any  particular  interest,  it  is  all 
on  his  side ;  but  on  the  contrary,  he  seems  much 
more  occupied  with  Emily,"  was  the  father's 
silent  observation.  He  did  not  notice  the  ap- 
parently trivial  circumstance  which  occurred  just 
as  their  visitor  rose  to  leave.  Taking  advantage 
of  a  moment  when  Emily  was  summoned  to  her 
mother's  side,  Mr.  Olmstead  approached  the  silent 
Louise,  and  passing  her  a  small  volume,  said  in 
a  low  voice,  "I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  bring 
over  the  book  you  mentioned  as  having  a  desire 
to  read,  and  have  marked  some  passages  which 
may  interest  you." 

A  quick,  bright  glance,  and  a  tremulous  "  thank 


224  TRYING  TO   BE    USEFUL. 

you,  sir,"  was  all  the  reply  the  young  girl  made, 
as  the  clergyman,  with  a  smile  upon  his  counte- 
nance, but  an  unsatisfied  fueling  at  his  heart, 
bade  adieu,  and  was  gone. 

"  I  am  glad  I  was  mistaken,"  was  the  good 
pastor's  secret  comment.  "  I  should  be  sorry  to 
have  the  child's  affections  become  at  all  involved 
while  under  my  roof." 


THE   YOUNG  NUKSE.  225 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

THE     YOUNG     N  TT  K  S  E  . 

Sickness  of  Mr.  Bond  and  Edward.  —  Letter  of  Louise  to  her 
Parents.  —  Convalescence  of  the  sick  Patients.  —  The  Wed- 
ding.—  Conversation  with  Mr.  Olmstead. 

MAY  had  been  the  month  fixed  by  Dr.  Merton 
for  the  return  of  Louise  to  New  England.  As 
the  time  approached,  her  friends  begged  her  to 
write  home  for  permission  to  prolong  her  visit 
until  autumn.  Mr.  Olmstead  was  at  the  parson- 
age on  one  occasion  when  Mrs.  Bond  was  pre- 
senting inducements  to  remain,  and  Emily  asked 
him  to  add  his  entreaties  to  theirs. 

He  replied  gently,  and  without  even  a  glance 
at  the  young  girl,  *'  I  fear  my  arguments  would 
be  powerless,  and  I  am  always  careful  of  my 
words  where  I  perceive  they  are  not  valued." 

Such  a  remark  caused  the  cheeks  of  Louise  to 
burn  with  a  tumult  of  emotiQns.  As  soon  as 
15 


226  TRYING   TO   BE    USEFUL. 

she  thought  the  movement  would  be  unobserved, 
she  arose  and  left  the  room ;  but  she  had  not 
gained  the  staircase  before  she  was  overtaken  by 
the  young  gentleman.  "  Forgive  me,"  he  began. 
"  I  hardly  knew  what  I  was  saying ;  but  of  late 
you  have  avoided  every  opportunity  of  speaking, 
or  even  of  seeing  me,  and  " 

"  This  is  hardly  a  proper  place  for  an  expla- 
nation," suggested  Louise,  her  lip  quivering 
with  suppressed  feeling ;  "  but  indeed,  I  never 

have "  She  could  say  no  more;  her  eyes 

filled  with  tears,  and  turning  hastily  away,  she 
ran  to  her  own  room. 

Mr.  Olmstead  returned  to  the  parlor,  took  a 
book  from  the  table,  and  with  the  freedom 
which  his  intimacy  warranted,  soon  became 
apparently  absorbed  in  its  contents.  If  Mrs. 
Bond  had  closely  observed  him,  she  would  have 
seen  that  he  bit  his  lip  with  vexation ;  that  sud- 
denly his  countenance  brightened ;  he  pushed 
away  his  book,  and  entered  into  conversation. 

"  James  is  progressing  rapidly  with  his  house," 
he  commenced. 


THE   YOUNG   NURSE.  227 

"  Yes.     I  rejoice  that  he  is  so  successful." 

"  He  tells  me  he  hopes  to  have  it  ready  for 
his  parents  to  go  into  by  the  first  of  May." 

"  Does  he  expect  to  go  on  for  them  ? "  asked 
the  lady,  earnestly.  "  If  so,  it  would  be  a  good 
opportunity  for  Louise.  He  would  be  delighted 
to  oblige  her." 

"  Indeed,  I  cannot  say,"  rejoined  the  gentle- 
man, a  shade  passing  over  his  countenance. 
"  By  the  way,"  he  '  added,  starting  from  his 
Beat,  "  he  wished  me  to  go  around  there  this 
afternoon.  Perhaps  the  young  ladies  would 
enjoy  a  walk." 

Mrs.  Bond  sent  Edward  to  ask  them.  The 
boy  returned  almost  immediately,  saying,  "  Emily 
is  going ;  but  Louise  shook  her  head,  and  I 
believe  she  has  been  crying ;  her  eyes  are  as 
red  as  a  beet." 

Mr.  Olmstead  took  out  his  pocket  book,  tore 
off  the  blank  part  of  a  letter,  and  hastily  wrote 
a  few  words,  which  he  requested  Edward  to 
carry  to  Miss  Merton. 


228  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

Louise  took  the  paper,  and  read  with  aston- 
ishment, "Do  not  be  too  severe  in  your  punish- 
ment. Allow  me  to  say  I  hope  the  walk  will 
do  you  good." 

"  Are  you  not  ready  yet  ?  "  called  out  Emily, 
coming  in  with  her  bonnet  on.  "  Come  quick, 
or  we  shall  go  off  without  you." 

"  I  give  you  leave  to  do  that,  if  I  am  not 
below  in  two  minutes,"  answered  Louise,  trying 
to  speak  gayly.  She  ran  to  the  sink,  bathed 
her  eyes,  and  ere  the  close  of  the  time  stood  at 
the  door  of  the  parlor,  ready  to  accompany 
them. 

The  walk  proved  a  pleasant  one.  Emily  was 
in  high  spirits,  and  did  not  notice  the  unusual 
silence  of  her  companions  until  their  return.  At 
length  she  broke  out,  "  Why,  Lou,  I  hardly 
think  you  have  spoken  a  dozen  words  since  we 
started  ;  and  why  do  you  keep  down  that  great, 
thick  veil?"  suddenly  throwing  it  back,  and  dis- 
closing cheeks  flushed  with  excitement.  "  You 
can't  think,  Mr.  Olmstead,  how  changed  she 


THE   YOUNG  NURSE.  229 

is;  why,  she  used  to  be  as  great  a  talker  as  I 
am." 

"  Was  that  possible  ? "  asked  the  gentleman, 
archly. 

"  Indeed,  but  it  was.  O,  there's  Joanna 
Mason  !  Excuse  me  a  moment ;  I  want  to  over- 
take her." 

When  the  young  girl  and  her  companion 
reached  the  parsonage,  the  spirits  of  the  former 
were  much  greater  than  when  she  left  it,  for 
she  had  been  able  to  convince  her  friend  that  if 
her  manner  toward  him  had  grown  cold  and  re- 
served, as  he  insisted  was  the  case,  it  was  un- 
known to  herself,  and  wholly  unintentional.  In 
addition,  he  had  drawn  from  her  a  promise  to 
consider  him  a  friend,  and  one  ready  to  do  all 
in  his  power  for  her  comfort  and  happiness. 

Two  weeks  later,  she  wrote  the  following  let- 
ter to  her  mother  :  — 

"  You  may  imagine  me  seated  on  a  cricket, 
with  my  portfolio  in  my  lap,  dear  mother,  for  I 


260  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

have  a  little  patient  lying  on  a  couch  by  my 
side,  who  will  not  allow  me  to  leave  him.  I 
hope  you  will  not  he  alarmed  when  I  inform 
you  that  two  in  this  house  are  prostrate  with 
fever ;  hut  I  myself  was  never  in  better  health. 
It  is  now  nearly  a  fortnight  since  Eddy  was  at- 
tacked ;  and  the  next  day  his  father  began  to 
show  symptoms  of  the  disease.  Mrs.  Bond  has 
been  obliged  to  devote  herself  wholly  to  her 
husband,  and  as  Emily  has  '  no  gift  at  nurs- 
ing,' (to  use  her  own  expression,)  the  care  of 
dear  Eddy  has  fallen  to  me.  You  can  hardly 
imagine  how  happy  I  am  to  be  able  to  make 
some  slight  return  for  all  their  kindness.  Mrs. 
Bond  says  she  is  just  as  easy  about  her  boy  as 
if  she  were  with  him  herself,  and  the  little  fel- 
low will  hardly  allow  me  out  of  the  room. 
Though  I  have  the  care  of  him  during  the  day, 
yet  I  have  never  watched  but  twice.  Our  good 
James  is  always  ready,  and,  I  believe,  could 
almost  live  without  sleeping ;  and  Mr.  Olmstead 
insists  upon  doing  his  part :  indeed,  he  would 


THE    YOUNG   NUKSE.  231 

have  turned  me  out  of  my  office  altogether,  but 
I  was  firm.  A  short  time  since,  he  fancied  that 
I  had  taken  a  dislike  to  him,  and  made  me 
promise  to  he  frank  and  cordial  as  I  used  to 
he.  •  So  I  told  him  I  had  not  the  slightest  fear 
of  taking  the  fever ;  that  I  thought  it  my  duty 
to  nurse  the  sick  boy,  and  that,  God  helping 
me,  I  meant  to  do  it.  .  Eddy  was  very  danger- 
ously ill  for  a  few  days,  and  his  father  was  too 
sick  to  be  even  informed  of  it.  O,  how,  anxious  I 
felt  that  he  should  speak  and  tell  us  he  was  not 
afraid  to  die !  Ever  since  Bella's  death  he  has 
been  exceedingly  thoughtful  and  .  conscientious, 
and  would  respond  freely  when  I  talked  with 
him  upon  the  subject  of  religion ;  but  I  was  not 
aware  that  he  was  indulging  a  trembling  hope 
that  his  peace  was  made  with  God.  I  begged 
Mr.  Olmstead  to  pray,  and  pray  earnestly,  that 
his  life  might  be  spared,  or  that  he  might  be 
fitted  for  his  great  and  last  change.  And  he 
did  pray  most  fervently  for  the  dear  boy.  It 
was  during  one  of  these  prayers  that  I  was  first 


232  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 

aware  that  he  was  conscious.  I  had  been  bath- 
ing his  hands  and  face,  and  as  I  kneeled  by  the 
bedside  I  still  retained  his  hand  in  mine.  As 
Mr.  Olmstead  went  on  importuning  for  the 
blessing,  my  eyes  overflowed.  Eddy  had  for 
some  days  been  delirious ;  but  now  he  feebly 
raised  his  fingers,  and  tried  to  wipe  away  my 
tears.  I  was  overjoyed,  and  so  much  excited, 
that  after  a  while  Mr.  Olmstead  quietly  took 
my  place,  and  insisted  I  should  go  out  for  a 
walk.  I  have  become  more  acquainted  with  him 
in  the  fortnight  since  Eddy  was  sick  than  in  all 
the  previous  months ;  but  he  will  not  allow  such 
to  be  the  case  with  him.  He  says,  when  he 
first  came  I  was  as  frank  with  him  as  Emily 
was,  and  that  he  has  been  studying  me  ever 
since.  He  even  pretends  to  know  what  I  am 
thinking  about  whenever  I  sit  for  a  moment 
silent  or  serious.  But  he  is  mistaken. 

"  Since  that  afternoon  I  have  often  talked 
with  Eddy,  and  am  delighted  to  find  him  peace- 
ful and  happy,  willing  to  live  or  die,  just  as 


THE   YOUNG  NURSE.  233 

God  thinks  best  for  him.  He  enjoys  so  much 
having  me  read  hymns  and  portions  of  Scripture 
to  him ;  and  now  that  he  is  better,  we  have  a 
regular  time  just  after  breakfast,  as  then  we  are 
more  free  from  interruption  ;  when,  sometimes  I 
sing  a  few  verses,  as  I  used  to  do  at  home. 

"  Mr.  Bond  is  not  recovering  as  fast  as  my 
patient,  and  has  some  symptoms  still,  which 
cause  his  wife  and  physician  great  anxiety.  She 
came  into  the  nursery  a  few  moments  since,  and 
sent  her  kindest  regards  to  you  and  dear  father. 
I  wish  I  could  see  a  little  more  bloom  upon  her 
countenance." 

In  another  letter,  written  at  nearly  the  same 
period,  Louise  gives  an  account  of  the  wedding 
which  she  attended.  After  stating  that  Eddy 
was  able  to  be  up  nearly  all  day,  and  that  Mr. 
Bond  was  beginning  to  take  nourishing  food,  she 
says,  "  You  will  remember  an  account  I  gave 
you  of  a  quilting  party.  The  young  girl's  name 
was  Sophia  Blake.  For  some  reason  she  took  a 


234  TRYING   TO   BE    USEFUL. 

great  fancy  to  me  ;  or,  as  Phebe  Shepard  used 
to  say,  I  became  very  popular  with  her.  She  im- 
agined that,  because  I  came  from  the  east,  I  knew 
more  about  modern  fashions  than  her  companions 
here.  Of  course  I  have  been  very  happy  to  be  use- 
ful to  her,  though  I  assured  her  I  knew  lit- 
tle about  what  she  called  style.  Soon  after  Eddy 
was  taken  sick,  she  came  in  to  invite  me  to  pass  a 
day  with  her,  to  assist  in  some  of  her  prepara- 
tions. This  I  could  not  do,  but  I  kept  an  apron 
which  she  wanted  trimmed,  and  did  it  for  her 
while  I  was  watching  my  patient.  Since  he  be- 
came convalescent,  so  that  Emily  or  Joseph 
could  take  care  of  him,  I  have  been  twice  and 
passed  the  whole  day.  Emily  is  to  be  one  of 
the  bridemaids,  and  Sophia  is  very  earnest  that 
I  should  be  the  other.  I  said  yes  without  the 
slightest  consideration ;  but  afterwards  repented, 
as  there  was  no  gentleman  with  whom  it  would 
be  pleasant  for  me  to  stand. 

"  One  day  I  was  there,  and  in  the  afternoon  it 
snowed  quite  fast,  so  that  the  ground   was   wet. 


THE   YOUNG   NURSE.  235 

Mr.  Olmstead  called  at  the  parsonage,  and  when 
he  found  I  was  away,  harnessed  his  horse  into 
Mr.  Bond's  sleigh,  and  came  to  carry  me  home. 
We  were  just  discussing  the  subject,  and  Sophia 
was  naming  one  and  another  of  the  young  men 
with  whom  I  am  acquainted,  when  Mr.  Olmstead 
came  in.  She  at  once  told  him  her  wish,  and 
asked  him  to  help  us  out  of  our  dilemma.  He 
could  think  of  no  one,  but  as  soon  a*  we  were 
alone,  asked  me  if  I  would  stand  with  him. 
'  No,'  I  answered,  decidedly. 

"  He  was  very  sober  for  a  moment,  and  as  I 
had  no  wish  to  hurt  his  feelings,  I  said,  '  I 
thought  you  wished  me  to  be  frank  with  you, 
and,  therefore,  though  you  do  not  ask  them,  I 
shall  proceed  to  give  my  reasons.'  We  were 
just  at  the  crossing  where  we  turn  to  go  to  the 
parsonage,  and  he  inquired,  '  Are  you  afraid  of 
getting  cold  ? ' 

"  '  Not  the  least,  sir.' 

"  He  then  turned  in  the  other  direction,  and 
requested  me  to  go  on,  but  with  rather  a  stiff  air. 


236  TRYING   TO    BE   USEFUL. 

" '  As  you  are  a  clergyman,'  I  commenced,  my 
heart-  beating  painfully  at  his  solemn  manner,  '  I 
cannot  endure  the  thought  of  placing  you  in  a 
situation  where  you  would  be  made  the  subject 
of  remark ;  where 

" '  Then  you  object  on  my  account,'  he  ex- 
claimed in  a  gay  tone. 

" '  Of  course,'  I  replied,  '  it  was  wholly  on 
yours.  There  is  .always  a  good  deal  of  mirth  at 
a  wedding  ;  and  judging  from  what  I  have  seen, 
I  think  there  will  be  no  lack  of  that  element  in 
this  case.  As  you  have  asked  my  opinion,  I 
must  confess  I  do  not  like  to  see  a  clergyman 
too  familiar  or  free  at  such  times.  I  think  Mr. 
Bond  preserves  a  happy  medium.  His  presence 
is  never  felt  to  be  a  restraint;  and  yet  he  does 
nothing  himself  which  at  all  lowers  his  dignity. 
I  have  always  heard  my  father  say  that  &  clergy- 
man's conduct  was  closely  watched,  and  that  he 
ought  to  be  exceedingly  careful.  But  there  is 
another  objection,'  I  added ;  '  you  must  perform 
the  ceremony.' 


THE    YOUNG   NURSE.  237 

"  *  No,'  said  he,  '  that  I  am  not  authorized  to 
do.  I  cannot  officiate  in  that  capacity  until  I 
am  ordained,  and  I  would  not  until  I  was  mar- 
ried myself.  I  have  always  disliked  to  see  a 
young  unmarried  man  performing  so  solemn  a 
service.' 

"  We  had  some  other  conversation  on  general 
subjects  before  we  reached  home.  He  seemed 
very  much  pleased  when  I  told  him  how  much 
I  liked  the  West,  and  that  if  you  and  father  would 
remove  here,  I  would  be  contented  never  to  re- 
turn to  New  England. 

"The  evening  of  the  wedding,  Mr.  Sampson, 
a  Methodist  minister  for  whom  Mr.  Bbnd  had 
sent,  rode  with  Emily  and  Joseph,  and  Mr. 
Olmstead  came  in  a  sleigh  from  L,  for  me.  I 
had  persuaded  Sophia  that  one  bridemaid  would 
be  sufficient,  and  she  reluctantly  consented  to 
excuse  me.  But  just  as  the  party  walked  into 
-•the  room,  and  stood  opposite  the  clergyman,  Mr. 
Olmstead  gave  me  his  arm,  walked  across  the 
room,  and  placed  me  by  the  side  of  Emily, 


238  TRYING    TO    BE    USEFUL. 

where  we  stood  until  the  ceremony  ended.  '  I 
will  not  forget  your  good  advice,'  he  said,  in  a 
low  tone,  when  the  company  were  beginning  to 
gather  about  the  bride.  And  he  did  not 
forget  it.  He  conducted  exactly  right,  and  I 
told  him  so  as  we  rode  home.  I  was  very 
warm,  though  I  wore  a  white  muslin  dress ;  but 
he  almost  smothered  me  with  shawls  and  robes, 
for  fear  I  should  take  cold,  and  then  he  made 
me  confess  that  I  had  passed  a  very  pleasant 
evening  ;  when  he  said  that  it  only  needed  one 
thing  to  make  it  the  pleasantest  of  his  life.  I 
dared  not  ask  what  that  one  thing  was,  though 
he  seemed  to  wish  me  to  do  so." 


BUDS    OF   AFFECTION. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

BUDS       OF       A FFE C T I O H . 

Emily's  Invitation. — Her  Parents'  Consent.  —  Her  delighted 
Anticipations.  —  Louise  a  useful  Friend.  —  Various  Draw- 
backs. —  The  confidential  Interview.  — Letter  to  Dr.  Mer- 
ton.  —  The  conditional  Engagement. 

EARLY  in  May  Louise  received  a  letter  from 
her  parents,  enclosing  one  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Bond,  which,  contained  a  pressing  invitation  for 
Emily  to  return  with  their  daughter  and  pass  the 
summer  in  New  England.  Dr.  Merton  also  re- 
quested his  friend  to  make  inquiries  for  some 
suitahle  opportunity  for  them  to  journey  in 
company  with  persons  going  East.  He  intended 
himself  to  meet  them  in  New  York  city. 

As  the  result  of  these  inquiries,  Mr.  Bond 
ascertained  that  a  lady  and  gentleman  from  Mor- 
ristown  Avere  going  to  New  York  early  in  July, 
and  would  be  pleased  to  take  the  charge  of  the 
young  people. 


240     .  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

Emily  was  most  happy  to  accept  the  kind  in- 
vitation, and  as  her  parents  made  no  serious 
opposition,  she  was  speedily  involved  in  all  the 
bustle  of  preparation.  Nothing  by  her  was  ever 
accomplished  quietly.  She  liked  excitement,  — 
something  going  on  which  taxed  her  powers  to 
the  utmost,  —  and  the  idea  of  visiting  new  scenes, 
of  witnessing,  with  her  own  eyes,  the  mighty 
ocean  and  the  lofty  mountains  she  had  so  often 
heard  described,  filled  her  with  inexpressible 
delight.  Her  enthusiasm  was  so  inspiring  that 
the  whole  family  were  compelled  to  share  it 
with  her.  Even  Mr.  Olmstead,  who,  of  late,  had 
grown  strangely  reserved,  gazed  at  her  counte- 
nance, sparkling  with  animation,  and  felt  his 
own  soul  grow  warm  as  he  listened  to  her 
rapturous  anticipations  of  pleasure. 

Louise,  who  was  always  delighted  when  she 
could  be  of  service  to  those  she  loved,  made 
vigorous  use  of  her  needle,  while  Emily  as  vig- 
orously employed  her  tongue.  Mrs.  Bond  cut 
out  garments,  Louise  made,  and  Emily  admired 


BUDS    OF   AFFECTION.  241 

them,  wondering  in  what  scenes  she  should  be 
participating  when  they  were  worn. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  excitement,  Emily 
alone  was  free  from  care.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bond 
shared  many  misgivings  concerning  the  conduct 
of  their  daughter  when  she  should  be  away  from 
all  parental  restraint.  Impetuous  to  an  extreme, 
she  could  be  influenced  only  through  her  affec- 
tions. They  feared  much,  and  they  also  hoped 
much  from  the  intended  journey. 

Louise,  too,  was  secretly  troubled  by  the 
change  in  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Olmstead.  She 
tried  to  recall  any  remark  she  might  have  made 
which  could  have  given  offence;  but  in  vain. 
She  could  not  venture  to  request  an  explanation, 
as,  on  a  former  occasion,  he  had  done,  and 
therefore  endeavored  to  stifle  her  disappointment 
by  an  increase  of  gayety. 

In   the   mean   time,  the  gentleman  was  sorely 

tried  to  discover   the  path  of  duty.      Inclination 

strongly  urged  one  course,  while  reason  suggested 

another.      After    trying    for     several    weeks    to 

16 


242  TRYING    TO    BE    USEFUL. 

reconcile  the  two,  and  finding  that  the  war- 
fare improved  neither  his  health  nor  his  spirits, 
he  concluded  to  ask  counsel  of  his  friend,  Mr. 
Bond.  He  agreed  with  Emily  that  when  a 
certain  duty  was  to  be  performed,  the  sooner  it 
was  accomplished,  the  better ;  and  in  less  than  an 
hour  after  the  above  decision,  he  was  knocking  at 
the  study  door  belonging  to  the  L.  parsonage. 

What  passed  there  during  the  two  hours 
which  followed  can,  perhaps,  be  best  learned  by 
a  letter  sent  in  haste  to  Morristown,  to  be  in 
season  for  the  morning  mail  to  the  East.  It  was 
as  follows :  — 

TO  DR.  MERTON. 

"  DEAR.  AND  RESPECTED  FRIEND  : 

"When  I  received  your  daughter  from  your 
hands  on  the  morning  we  left  you,  I  promised 
to  treat  her,  in  all  respects,  as  if  she  were  my 
own.  This  promise  I  have  so  far  endeavored  to 
fulfil ;  indeed,  after  passing  a  few  weeks  with 
her  in  the  intimacy  of  the  social  circle,  my 


BUDS    OF   AFFECTION.  243 

affections  were  constrained  toward  her,  and  I  not 
only  treated  her,  but  loved  her,  as  a  child. 

"Now,  however,  I  am  unwilling  to  take  upon 
myself  the  responsibility  which  none  but  a 
parent  should  assume.  This  morning  a  young 
gentleman,  of  unexceptionable  character,  has 
asked  my  consent  to  address  her.  This  is  no 
other  than  the  young  clergyman  who  has  been 
preaching  at  Morristown  —  the  Mr.  Olmstead, 
whose  name,  no  doubt,  is  familiar  through  the 
letters  of  Louise.  The  church  and  parish  are 
only  waiting  his  consent  to  give,  him  a  call  to 
settle  among  them ;  but  this  he  has  thus  far 
resolutely  refused,  in  consequence,  as  he  told 
me  this  morning,  of  his  warm  affection  for  your 
daughter,  and  his  fear  lest  you  would  not  con- 
sent to  her  being  settled  at  such  a  distance  from 
the  parental  roof. . 

"  You  will  naturally  ask,  '  Does  Louise  know 
of  this,  and  are  her  affections  involved,  so  that 
she  would  be  pained  by  my  refusal  of  his  suit?' 
I  can  only  answer  that  I  suppose  his  attentions, 


244  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 

which  thus  far  have  been  general,  have  not  been 
unpleasing  to  her.  Beyond  that  I  have  no  means 
of  judging,  as  she  is  not  one  who  would  make 
a  display  of  her  interest  in  any  man,  but  would 
rather  use  her  utmost  efforts  to  conceal  it, 
until  such  time  as  he  openly  offered  her  his 
hand.  This,  he  says,  he  has  been  prevented 
from  doing  solely  because  she  is  absent  from 
home.  He  assured  me  that  he  had  done  great 
violence  to  his  own  feelings  by  the  reserve  he 

had  assumed  to  conceal  his  love  for  her. 

•  .        '  \tf^  • 

"  So  far  I  consider  his  course  to  be  honorable. 

*    •<•;•'''•  '          r«-'  '- 

I    racommend*:hnn   to    your   mercy,    only  saying 

»          ft'  *  i»^V     J^^^ 

that  he  is, a  'son  of   whom  any  father    might   be'- 
proud,  and   that  I  shall   be   happy  indee'd  if  my 
daughter  is  chosen  by  one  so  every  way  worthy. 
"  With  the  highest  sentiments  of  respect, 
Yours  very  truly, 

ROBEBT  BOND." 

"  P.  S.  I  suppose  it  is  unnecessary  to  remind 
you  that  your  answer  to  this  letter  will  be  most 
anxiously  expected." 


BUDS    OP  AFFECTION.  245 

During  the  two  weeks  and  a  half  which  fol- 
lowed, the  good  minister  often  was  tempted  to 
recall  the  prohibition  to  the  ardent  lover  to 
visit  at  the  parsonage.  His  absence  seemed  so 
strange,  and  even  unkind,  that  Emily  loudly 
remonstrated,  while  Louise,  in  spite  of  all  her 
efforts,  grew  pale  and  dispirited.  When  she 
met  him,  as  she  occasionally  did  at  the  Sabbath 
schools,  or  in  a  hasty  walk,  his  manner  certain- 
ly did  not  tend  to  "  settle  her  mind  "  as  to  the 
motives  which  actuated  him  to  such  variable 
conduct. 

At  the  close  of  that  period,'  she  was  one  morn- 
ing accompanying  Edward  to  the  cabin  of  a  new 
settler,  where  there  had  been  sickness,  when  she 
saw  in  the  distance  a  horseman  approaching  at 
full  speed.  As  he  drew  nearer  she  recognized 
Mr.  Olmstead.  He  bowed  low  in  passing,  but 
did  not  slacken  his  pace,  and  soon  turned  the 
cross  road  leading  to  the  parsonage. 

Louise  suppressed  a  sigh  of  disappointment 
that  she  had  missed  his  visit,  and  went  bravely 


246  TRYING   TO   BE   USEFUL. 

on  in  the  performance  of  her  self-imposed  duty. 
Entering  the  humble  dwelling,  her  thoughts  were 
soon  absorbed  in  administering  to  the  comfort 
•of  the  sick  woman  and  child,  who  were  sadly  in 
need  of  care.  Taking  from  her  basket  a  paper 
of  crackers,  she  raked  up  a  few  embers  to  toast 
them,  while  Edward  placed  upon  the  coals  a 
dipper  of  broth.  She  then  bolstered  up  her  pa- 
tients, poured  some  warm  water  upon  a  napkin, 
and  bathed  their  faces  and  hands,  when  she  was 
at  liberty  to  stand  and  witness  their  enjoyment 
of  their  nourishing  food. 

"  Where  is  your  husband?  "  she  asked,  kindly. 

"  He  has  gone  out  to  seek  employment,"  re- 
plied the  woman  ;  "  and  since  the  light  began  to 
dawn  I  have  not  seen  the  face  of  a  single  hu- 
man. We  might  have  starved  but  for  your 
kindness." 

Louise  smiled,  as  she  always  did  at  this  pro- 
vincial expression,  and  was  proceeding  to  reply, 
when  Edward  touched  her  arm.  She  turned 
quickly,  and  saw  Mr.  Olmstead  standing  in  the 


BUDS    OF   AFFECTION.  247 

doorway,  his  countenance  perfectly  radiant  with 
happiness. 

"  How  much  longer  are  you  intending  to  stay 
here  ? "  he  asked  hurriedly,  as  she  approached 
him.  "  Mr.  Bond  sent  me  for  you,  or  rather 
he  gave  me  leave  to  accompany  you  home." 

"  I  will  go  at  once  if  you  are  in  haste,"  she 
replied,  blushing  deeply  at  his  ardent  gaze ; 
"  indeed,  I  think  there  is  nothing  more  that  I 
can  do  here  at  present." 

"  I  am  in  tremulous  haste,"  was  the  whispered 
response.  Louise  then  placed  the  remainder  of 
the  broth  within  reach  of  the  invalid,  put  on  her 
bonnet  and  shawl,  and  having  bade  the  woman 
and  child  good  morning,  left  the  door  in  com- 
pany with  Mr.  Olmstead  just  in  time  to  perceive 
her  young  companion  running  at  full  speed 
toward  home.  She  turned  to  the  gentleman  for 
an  explanation,  when  he  replied,  with  a  height- 
ened color,  "  I  hope  you  will  excuse  my  summary 
mode  of  dismissing  your  attendant ;  but  I  have 
long  promised  him  a  ride  upon  my  colt,  and  he 


248  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

has  now  gone  to  improve  the  opportunity  while 
I  am  far  more  pleasantly  employed.  In  truth, 
Miss  Merton,  I  have  long  been  impatient  for  an 
interview  with  you,  —  and  —  I  — " 

"  I  should  hardly  have  supposed  that,"  replied 
Louise,  quietly ;  "  it  is  a  long  time  since  you 
favored  us  with  a  call." 

"  I  am  ready  to  explain  all  that,  and  every 
other  part  of  my  conduct,"  responded  the  gen- 
tleman, warmly.  "  If  you  will  only  listen,  I 
think  you  will  allow  I  had  sufficient  excuse." 

We  must  suppose  that  Louise  gave  her  friend 
a  candid  hearing ;  for  when,  after  an  hour,  she 
returned  to  her  friends  at  the  parsonage,  she 
had  promised,  if  her  parents  would  consent,  to 
walk  by  his  side  through  the  remainder  of  her 
life. 

When  Mr.  Olmstead  hastened  to  the  study  to 
communicate  his  happiness  to  his  sympathizing 
friend,  he  met  with  the  most  cordial  congratu- 
lations, but  with  them  a  friendly  caution  lest 
he  overstep  the  bounds  set  by  Dr.  Merton. 


BUDS    OF   AFFECTION.  249 

Louise's  father  had  certainly  not  forbidden  him 
to  hope ;  but  in  his  letter  to  Mr.  Bond,  said, 
"  I  have  the  greatest  confidence  both  in  your 
affection  for  my  daughter  and  in  your  judgment 
of  the  young  clergyman's  character  ;  still,  before 
I  give  my  unqualified  assent  to  his  proposals,  I 
should  wish  to  see  him  long  enough  to  form 
some  opinion  as  to  the  congeniality  of  their 
temper  and  habits.  If,  therefore,  he  should  feel 
inclined  to  join  the  party,  who,  you  tell  me,  are 
coming  on  the  first  of  July,  I  can  assure  him  of 
a  hearty  welcome." 

"  Miss  Merton  expressly  gave  me  to  under- 
stand," urged  the  young  man,  "  that  she  should 
wish  to  consult  her  parents,  though  convinced  I 
had  not  addressed  her  without  their  sanction." 

When  the  family  met  at  dinner,  Louise  was 
not  a  little  amused,  as  well  as  embarrassed,  by 
the  watchful  attention  of  the  bofs,  who  seemed 
just  waking  up  to  the  conviction  that  novel  and 
Interesting  scenes  were  passing  before  them. 


250  TRYING  TO   BE   USEFUL. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

THE     CONCLUSION. 

The  Journey  homeward.  —  The  curious  Incident.  —  Dr.  Mer- 
ton's  Consent  to  the  Marriage  of  his  Daughter.  —  Prepara- 
tions for  the  "Wedding.  —  Parting  from  Friends. 

IN  the  close  intimacy  produced  by  travelling 
in  company,  Mr.  Olmstead  and  Louise  discovered 
many  new  and  pleasing  traits  in  the  character  of 
each  other.  Mr.  Butler  and  his  lady,  who  were 
of  the  party,  and  firm  supporters  of  Mr.  Olm- 
stead in  the  church  at  Morristown,  did  all  in 
their  power  to  amuse  Emily,  by  pointing  out 
objects  of  interest  upon  the  journey. 

Louise,  from  the  first,  had  somewhat  regretted 
that  she  was  obliged  to  go  home  by  the  same 
route  over  whicfi  she  had  once  passed ;  but  a 
whispered  remark  of  her  lover  that  when  she 
returned  she  should  choose  her  own  line  of 
travel,  brought  a  crimson  hue  to  her  cheek,  and 


THE    CONCLUSION.  251 

if  it  did  not  quite  satisfy  her,  yet  effectually 
silenced  every  expression  of  discontent.  Not 
even  the  pleasure  she  experienced  in  the  society 
and  attentions  of  her  devoted  friend  could  divert 
her  from  a  desire  to  be  of  use  to  those  about 
her.  When  the  party  reached  Buffalo,  and  took 
the  canal  boats  for  Troy,  an  incident  occurred 
which  called  forth  her  liveliest  sympathy  and 
interest.  One  evening,  just  at  twilight,  they 
approached  Utica,  where  there  was  a  crowd  of 
passengers  waiting  to  come  on  board.  At  the 
request  of  Emily,  Mr.  Olmstead  and  Louise  ac- 
companied her  to  the  deck  to  witness  the  lively 
scene.  Among  others  waiting  their  turn,  Louise 
noticed  a  hardy  yeoman,  with  his  wife  and  child. 
The  woman  appeared  timid,  and  hung  back,  so 
that  it  required  all  his  powers  of  persuasion  to 
induce  her  to  go  forward.  He  had  his  arms 
filled  with  packages,  while  she  hugged  her 
infant  tightly  to  her  breast.  The  repeated  cry, 
"All  aboard," — "all  aboard,"  at  length  startled 
the  man  with  the  fear  of  being  left  behind,  and 


252  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

throwing  his  baggage  to  the  ground,  he  caught 
the  baby  from  her,  and  darted  with  it  along  the 
plank.  Louise  and  Emily  started  forward,  and 
being  foremost  among  the  group,  the  former  re- 
ceived the  infant  in  her  arms.  Back  the  man 
flew  to  his  wife,  but  it  was  too  late.  The  last 
warning  had  been  given;  the  boat  moved  off, 
and  the  captain,  declaring  tljat  he  was  already 
behind  his  time,  refused  to  put  back.  In  the 
deepening  twilight  they  could  just  see  the 
woman  frantically  wringing  her  hands,  as  she 
screamed  after  her  baby,  while  the  father  was 
fiercely  gesticulating  for  the  boat  to  return  and 
restore  his  child. 

"What  shall  we  do  with  the  poor  baby?" 
asked  Louise,  when  she  could  recover  her 
breath.  "  O,  how  sorry  I  am  that  the  captain 
didn't  take  them  in  !  Can't  something  be  done 
for  the  mother  ?  She  will  be  almost  distracted." 

"  Now  we  have  gone  so  far,  I  fear  the  captain 
cannot  be  prevailed  upon  to  return,"  replied  Mr. 
Olmstead,  gravely.  "  I  think  his  conduct  was 


THE   CONCLUSION.  253 

inhuman ;    but    possibly  lie    did    not    know  that 
the  parents  were  separated  from  their  child." 

By  this  time,  many  of  the  passengers  had 
gathered  about  the  poor  babe,  and  gazed  at  it 
with  a  curious  eye.  One  woman  manifested  real 
sympathy  for  the  mother  and  compassion  for  the 
child,  by  offering  to  take  care  of  it  until  it  could " 
be  restored  to  its  parents.  But  the  babe  was 
satisfied  with  its  present  condition,  and  clung 
lovingly  to  the  neck  of  its  kind  protectress, 
causing  a  warm  glow  to  spread  all  over  her 
face.  »She  begged  Mr.  Olmstead  to  accompany 
her  to  the  cabin,  that  she  might  shield  her 
charge  from  the  night  air;  nor  could  she  be  in- 
duced to  leave  it  even  when,  soothed  by  her 
gentle  lullaby,  it  fell  sweetly  asleep,  and  was 
laid  in  the  low  berth.  Emily  remained  with 
her  friend,  while  the  young  clergyman  impa- 
tiently paced  the  deck,  devoutly  wishing  the 
mother  would  appear  and  claim  her  child. 

This    wish    was    much    more   speedily  fulfilled 
than    he    had    dared     to    expect.       About    nine 


254  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

o'clock  the  boat  stopped  at  a  small  town  to 
leave  passengers,  when  a  man  rushed  on  board, 
calling  out,  "  Quick,  quick.  Give  me  my  baby  ! " 

"  Follow  me,"  cried  Mr.  Olmstead,  running 
hastily  down  the  steep  staircase.  "  Here  she  is, 
sweetly  asleep,  and  two  ladies  watching  her." 

"  May  God  reward  you,  miss ! "  exclaimed 
the  man,  with  a  trembling  voice,  as  Louise  took 
the  infant  from  the  bed  and  placed  her  in  the 
father's  strong  arms. 

One  moment  more,  and  he  had  dashed  up  the 
stairs,  over  the  plank,  and  was  out  of  sight  in 
the  darkness. 

After  Mr.  Olmstead  had  been  for  a  week  a 
guest  at  the  house  of  Dr.  Merton,  the  good 
man  agreed  with  his  friend  Mr.  Bond,  that  the 
young  clergyman  was  a  son  of  whom  any  man 
might  be  proud.  As  Louise  was  one  of  the 
younger  children  in  a  large  family,  he  had 
thought  the  time  far  distant  when  he  should  be 
called  to  give  her  to  a  husband's  care.  But 
when  he  saw  her  happy  in  the  love  of  so  de- 


THE    CONCLUSION.  255 

voted  a  Christian,  he  put  away  every  selfish 
consideration,  and  gave  them  his  consent  and 
his  blessing. 

It  was  a  greater  trial  to  the  mother  to  part 
with  her  only  remaining  daughter,  and  no  mo- 
tive save  the  happiness  and  increased  usefulness 
of  her  child  availed  to  comfort  her  under  the 
anticipated  separation. 

The  summer  and  early  autumn  passed  rapidly 
amid  busy  preparations  for  the  wedding,  which 
was  to  take  place  in  October.  Mr.  Olmstead 
had  received  and  accepted  a  call  from  the  church 
in  Morristown,  and  during  his  absence  from  them 
had  been  prosecuting  his  studies  at  a  Theological 

* 

School  only  twenty  miles  distant  from  the  village 
where  Dr.  Merton  resided. 

Agnes  Lovell  could  not  easily  be  persuaded 
to  consent  to  the  lengthened  separation  which 
the  marriage  of  her  dear  Louise  would  oc- 
casion. "  It  is  almost  like  burying  her,"  she 
said,  "  as  far  as  any  comfort  I  shall  take 
with  her ; "  but,  notwithstanding  her  sorrow, 


256  TRYING   TO    BE    USEFUL. 

she  was  by  far  the  most  interested  of  any  of 
Louise's  young  companions  in  the  procuring  and 
arrangement  of  the  bridal  trousseau. 

The  period  at  length  arrived  when  Louise 
was  to  leave  the  sheltering  care  of  her  beloved 
parents,  and  to  give  her  happiness  to  the  keep- 
ing of  one  comparatively  a  stranger.  But  though 
she  felt  most  keenly  the  separation  from  those 
whose  love  she  so  highly  prized,  yet  not  for 
one  moment  did  she  regret  the  choice  she  had 
made.  She  rejoiced  rather  that  she  was  chosen 
to  be  the  wife  of  one  so  devoted  to  the  cause 
of  Christ,  and  was  thought  worthy  to  labor  at 
his  side  in  the  advancement  of  the  cause  of 
their  Redeemer. 


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